Clouded Minds, Fractured Souls
by peiot
Summary: The Powerpuffs retired years ago, uneeded because of a boost in the police force. Now, faced with a new villan that redefines scary, the world once again needs the girls, along with another certain trio of super-powered teens.
1. Prolouge

Hey everybody! So…this is my first story! Yea for naive young writer's optimism! Wait-wait-wait! Before you hit the back button up there, cursing yourself for having the luck to click on a newbie's story, I beg you to wait, and at least let me make a formal promise:

_I swear to do my upmost to keep this story as interesting as I can and avoid clichés, if at all possible._

There. I said it. Now while you give an author a chance? *puppy eyes*

So, to get on with it, I would like to warn you that the romance between the PPG and the RRB will not be immediate! Hints every now and then, but it will take time. Most relationships do, and just think of the pasts these guys have had!

Disclaimer: Let's make this simple – if you know them, I don't own them.

Rated T for the minorly dirty mouths and minds in later chapters that I have vaguely planned. =P Also for violence that is inevitable with the PPG and RRB Hope you enjoy the story!

* * *

"All right, people, back it up, _back it up_!" commanded a loud, barking voice. Captain Hendrecks shoved his way through the mass of humanity that obscured him from his goal.

With an internal sigh, Captain Hendrecks paused for a moment to look up at the starry night sky above him. _Mother was right, I should have been architect._

But the portly man's reminisces on bad job choice were quickly interrupted as he finally made his way to the police tape and stepped gingerly over it, the blaring police cars and flashing of sirens and cameras his backdrop as he approached a gangly man.

"Oi, Thomson!"

The thin, large-nosed man turned sharply, fumbling in his haste to salute his superior.

"Captain 'Endrecks, sir, you arrived! Great Scott, it's a right good thing you did! We're not sure what to make of it," Thomson slurred though his thick cockney accents, made stronger by his drowsiness of being roused from bed to restrict the public ofLondonfrom trampling the scene of the crime.

"Yeah, yeah, that's great and all, but what is goin' on?" Hendrecks barked, surveying the scene of chaos in front of him.

The squat brick warehouse was surrounded by a swarm of British civilians who were held back by lines of police men and caution tape. General mayhem was ensuing as photographers strained to get a better shot of everyone and everything, wile reporters shoved tape recorders at every uniformed man in sight.

Thomson gulped. His boss was not a man well known for his patience in broad and warm daylight, and Thomson certainly did not want to test it at four in the morning.

"Well, sir, if you step this way, I – "

Grumbling something unintelligible under his breath, Captain Hendrecks stormed into the brick building, his awkward colleague hurrying after him, stumbling over his long feet in an eager attempt to please his superior.

Once the odd pair had escaped the prying eyes of the media, Thomson took the led the through a dimly lit hall, up a dusty flight of stairs, through another dank corridor, before halting at the entrance of an employee water closet.

"'Ere, sire, if you don't mind, I'd rather not go in…"

Although he would very much like to keep his job, Thomson wasn't quite sure he was willing to re-enter the loo to see…thatsight again. Thomson shuddered from the tip of his long nose the ends of his large cold feet. One view was enough to last a life time, thank you very much, sir.

Still furiously mumbling, Hendrecks fumed into the bathroom.

"Blasted…four in the morning…ridiculous…_sane_ humans…."

But as soon as the short and stout cop entered the silent room, the officer's grumbling come to a abrupt stop. A moment of silence filled the air, when Thomson heard his boss say a single hushed word:

"Blimey."

* * *

So, that was the very short prologue. I'll probably have Chapter 1 up really soon, so keep a look out.

Reviews are ALWAYS appreciated, but I'm not desperate yet. I'm going to wait until I actually have some chapters before I humiliate myself by getting down on my knees and begging. :P

One last note - if you find any grammatical or other stupid errors in my writing, I please ask you point them out! Any other tips from more experienced and better writers are greatly appreciated!


	2. Chapter 1: Jumpstart

Hey everyone!

Squee! I still have the adrenaline of starting a new story, so obviously it's the only thing I can think about, which makes me want to update!

* * *

_Wham!_

With a jolt, Blossom woke, her vision filled with a soft haze of pink light. Moaning quietly, she tugged her rose colored blanket off of her head to just in time to see a lime blaze whiz around the doorway.

"Ugh! She has no consideration!" Blossom fumed, rubbing her eyes with one hand and throwing the blankets off of her legs with the other, swinging her bare toes to brush the wooden floor. There was no sleeping after a wake-up call like that, and besides – for once, Buttercup had the right idea. Saturday was a day without a school schedule to encumber her, she couldn't afford to sleep it away_._

She glided through the girls' shared bedroom into the bathroom across the hall, to analyze herself in the mirror. Her long, lustrous copper hair was in a disheveled mess, her pink eyes still squinting in the bright intrusiveness of the morning sunlight, and her satiny pajamas were rumpled from last night's sleep.

She blinked once at her reflection, until the chill of the tile seeping through the bottoms of her feet arrived at her brain and jolted her into action. After quickly showering and changing into jeans and a white t-shirt, Blossom followed Buttercup down stairs to find Bubbles starting on a plate of pancakes.

"There's still some batter if you want some," her blonde sister chirped with her usual cheer.

"Thanks, Bubs."

Blossom passed the wooden table on her way to the stove, at ease and familiar with her surroundings. White morning light flooded from the window, and the shrill tweeting accompanying it was from the same family of birds who had nested in the front lawn since their childhood. And she didn't even have to look out said window to identify the grinding wheels on cement to know that Buttercup was skateboarding.

The green puff had taken up the sport several years ago, when Townsville had boosted up their police force from a bunch of doughnut-eating buffoons to a veritable army of cops, specifically trained to take on the monsters who routinely plagued the city ofTownsville.

Instead of relying on three kindergarten girls who still tried to lead lives of their own, Ms. Bellum – erm, _the Mayor_ – decided that it would be best for everyone if they simply upgraded the official crime fighting forces of the city. So, after much consideration and hesitation, the girls resigned and carried on with mostly normal lives.

Obviously, after being acclimated to such an adventurous and active life, the girls needed hobbies. Blossom dedicated herself to her studies, Bubbles now volunteered for various causes, and Buttercup took up skating. All though the beginning of 'retirement' had been difficult, the three had adjusted.

Blossom snapped out of her reverie, her mind refocused by the one unfamiliar noise in the chorus of sounds regularly heard on an early Saturday morning.

The muffled sounds of a car braking in front of the Utonium residence hit Blossom's super sensitive ears. Now, this noise would not be to out of place, if Buttercup had continued boarding, with perhaps a greeting for the driver.

But instead, her wheels abruptly stopped their grating and her voice sounded challenging. To a stranger, Buttercup might not sound any different in this conversation than in any other, but Blossom could discern the underlying insecurity and instantly knew something was up.

Dropping the spoon in the sticky pancake batter, disregarding the cakes already on the pan, Blossom hurried through the front doors to see a black car turning the corner our of the neighborhood. Buttercup stood on the driveway in black board shorts, her board under her arm and a large envelope in her hand.

Buttercup looked up from the papers in her hand to her sister in the doorway and began walking towards her.

"Some big dudes in douche suits had this for us. Has a bunch of seals 'n stuff all over it. They said it was very urgent for us to get back to them as soon as possible."

Buttercup dropped her skateboard on the front steps and recklessly tore open the top of the envelope, but before the two girls could examine the contents, a voice interrupted them from behind.

"What's up?" Bubbles asked.

"We're about to find out," replied Buttercup as she pulled a few papers, "Here it goes,

_"Blossom Utonium, Buttercup Utonium, Bubbles Utonium: Greetings from the White House,"_

Buttercup paused, eyebrows flying up her forehead.

_"We are aware of your retirement nine years ago from crime fighting, but it seems we are in need of your abilities,"_

Here, Buttercup stopped again.

"'Abilities?' That's what they're calling our super powers?"

"Just keep reading!" squeaked Bubbles, her eyes wide with excitement.

Blossom elbowed Buttercup in the side as a prompt to continue.

"Ok, for fuck's sake, keep your panties on: _If you accept our call to duty, please contact your mayor who will have the number to reach the escorts who delivered this letter. Further information will be given upon your arrival."_

Buttercup lowered the letter.

"That's it."

"I wonder what they need us for," Bubbles wondered quietly, anxiety tinting her words.

"I bet it's dangerous," said Buttercup with a predatory grin, "Oh man, it would be great to have an adventure again, save the day."

Blossom's eyebrows furrowed, still focused on the paper in Buttercup's hand, but, feeling the heavy pressure of eyes on her, she looked up to see her sisters' expectant stares on her.

A sense of déjà vu washed over her as she realized they were waiting for her final decision.

_Looks like some things never do change._

For a moment, Blossom paused, weighing their options. They were well settled and had average school and social lives which would be disturbed and would never return to normal if they accepted this mission. Also, the girls hadn't 'saved the day' since they were six and must be out of practice.

On the other hand, Buttercup was right; it would be undeniably great to kick some butt again. Besides, if the government was willing to come root the puffs up from their home, then it must be urgent. What if they really needed help?

Finally, Blossom made her decision.

"Well girls, you up for a visit to the Mayor?"

* * *

After leaving a hasty note for the professor to explain away the absence of his three fifteen year old daughters at eight in the morning, the girls took off flying across the skyline of Townsville in their traditional, triangular rainbow.

With the ease and grace that only comes with practice, the puff's touched down in front of the City Hall, and marched confidently up the many steps to the front door, where Buttercup hesitated, for just a split second, before swiftly shrugging off all caution, and throwing open the massive doors with her usual vigor that made her more docile sisters flinch.

Truth be told, and all vigor aside, Buttercup was admittedly a tad reserved about returning to their familiar haunts. After retiring at an early age from the heroine business, the girls could count the number of times they had only spoken to the Mayor and Ms. Bellum on one hand. And in plus, Buttercup had been the most adamant and, well, _vocal_ about continuing in their positions as Townsville's guardians, and as such, had departed with a less-than-favorable parting impression.

After all - six-year-old Buttercup had argued - they had been taking great care of the city since _forever_, why did they have to stop and let a force of puny humans steal her fun? In the end, Ms. Bellum and the Professor had won, and although the change had been hard, Buttercup had learned how to move on, or at least fake it.

So, even now, with the promise of fresh adventure dangling before her, she was admittedly hesitant to return and face these bitter ghosts.

As the three moved through the massive doorway and into the large reception room, they were greeted by the hauntingly familiar sight of the gorgeous Ms. Bellum leaning on a desk at the opposite end of the otherwise empty room, her face shielded in the shadow of her hair and the dimness of the cold, stone room.

A moment of silence filled large, cavernous space.

"Hello girls," said Ms. Bellum in a quiet voice that echoed off the thick walls.

"Hello," said Blossom stiffly, her voice also ringing a few extra times, adding to the tenseness.

"It's been so long. You three have really grown up."

To Buttercup's malicious glee, Blossom didn't honor the observation with a response, instead narrowing her eyes as she surveyed the older redhead from distance between them.

Buttercup clenched her teeth, the suspense killing her. On the opposite side of Blossom, Buttercup could see Bubble's fingers fidget nervously behind her back. Gently, Ms. Bellum placed her own elegant hand on the large desk she was leaning against.

The massive room was so silent that even normal human ears could hear a pin drop.

Finally, Buttercup exploded.

"So are we going to get down to business, or _what_?"

Buttercup could have sworn she saw the tiniest twitch of a smile pass over her leader's lips, but as soon as the smirk had passed across Blossom's mouth, it had disappeared again.

"Let's," agreed Ms. Bellum coolly, and sashaying around the desk, she opened a drawer, removed a slip of paper and pushed a phone to the edge of the surface closer to the girls.

"Here's your number."

Blossom nodded curtly and stalked across the room, Buttercup and Bubbles flanking her sides, their steps sounding unnaturally loud against the marble floor.

All of the women in the room avoided eye contact as Blossom picked up the phone and firmly punched the numbers, her finger hovering over each digit for a split second before pushing down, receiving a chorus of cheery bleeps that sounded almost humorously out of place in the tense room.

As Blossom pressed the eleventh digit in the number and held the phone up to her ear, a barely audible intake of breath could be heard, which only served to heighten the suspense crackling in the air. The dial tone filled the quiet, Buttercup bit her lip, her brain going into overload as she realized this moment might restart their career or leave it where it was, in the dust.

The dial tone bleeped out. Blossom's grip on the phone tightened. Bubbles squeezed her hands together. Buttercup clenched her toes inside of her shoes. Despite herself, Ms. Bellum leaned in a discreet attempt to listen in.

"Hello," said Blossom, as cool and collected as ever, "This is Blossom Utonium. We were told to call this number with our decision."

For the briefest of moments, Blossom paused, locking eyes with her sisters, and even acknowledging Ms. Bellum's presence with a short-lived glance.

"We accept."

A muffled male voice responded, words indistinguishable and curt. Blossom smirked in response and said,

"I understand. Goodbye."

Calmly, she put the phone back down on its charger, magenta eyes flickered up to her anxious sisters' faces.

"They pick us up tomorrow, at noon."

With a joyful squeal, Bubbles floated into the air, clapping in excitement, utterly shattering the tense mood and enmity from before.

"Then we've got to hurry! Come on, girls, let's go! Bye, Ms. Bellum!"

Their elated sister grabbed them by their wrists and dragged them through the air without a chance to reclaim any of their dignity. Buttercup scowled as she acutely caught a low chuckle from Ms. Bellum before the doors slammed behind them, but as soon as they did, and before her sisters could even begin to protest, Bubbles stopped, eyes growing round and uncertain. Slowly she let them go, and turned back around to face them.

"What if the Professor won't let us? He wanted us to try to have normal lives…"

Buttercup blinked in realization, her original joy deflating as if Bubbles's innocent thought had been a pin. But her spirits could never be crushed for long. After all, she was the tough one.

"I'm sure he wouldn't stop us from doing something we want. We tried for nine years, and you know as well as I that it was never going to work. None of us could forgot what we are capable of, what we were _meant_ to do. I mean, we were created with kitchen ingredients and our own fucking 'do not attempt at home' disclaimer. How's that for normal?"

Bubble's contagious smile returned

"You're right, BC, I'm sure we can talk him into it! Hurry, we have a ton of stuff to do before tomorrow!"

This time letting them fly on their own, Bubbles took off again, Blossom and Buttercup following behind as they raced back home to pack, notify their school, say goodbye to friends, but, first and foremost - break the news to the Professor.

As soon as they girls arrived at the front lawn, they burst back into their house, bubbling over with the news .

"Professor!" trilled Bubbles.

Said man stuck his head out of the kitchen.

"In here."

With the swift speed that came with the benefits of being created with Chemical X, the girls shot over to their father figure, Blossom eagerly opening her mouth to speak on the girls behalf, but before she could, the Professor silenced her with his own voice.

"Care to inform me exactly who up and left the stove on with pancakes, or, as I should now say, charcoal!"

Blossom's mouth immediately shut close, realization washing over her features.

"…oops," she said in a small voice.

The Professor's face slacked from angry to shocked.

"Really? Blossom? That's uncharacteristic…"

"I know, I know! But I was so caught up in what was happening, and - "

Buttercup decided this was an excellent moment to intervene on Leader Girl's behalf.

"What she means, Prof, is we need to talk."

The Professor broke his previous record by switching to suspicious before they could blink.

"Alright, what's going on?"

Anxiety clearly teeming in her large blue eyes, Bubbles grabbed the Professor's hand and pulled him back to the kitchen table.

"Exactly what Buttercup said, Professor. We need to talk."

He listened patiently to the story of their crazy morning, his brown eyes never faltering from Blossom's face as she explained what happened. When she was done, he sighed, interlacing his fingers in front of him on the surface of his kitchen table.

"Honestly, I had expected something like this would happen. I'm just surprised it didn't happen sooner."

His face lost some resignation for a more serious and intent look.

"And you agreed?"

"Yes," said Buttercup firmly, crossing her fingers behind her back for luck, hoping the Professor would see how much they all wanted to do this. How much the world needed them…

With one last sigh, the Professor wordlessly nodded.

"Alright!" she cheered, springing from her chair and pumping her fist into the air.

Bubbles also jumped up and threw her arms around their father a hug, beaming. Blossom also smiled, the last to rise, but instead of joining the celebration, she, as usual, crashed it.

"Ok, ok, that's enough, everyone. We've got work to do, girls."

Without argument, Bubbles rushed upstairs giggling, leading her baby blue trail from the kitchen to the girls' room. Buttercup's triumphant grin faded slightly, throwing a slight scowl to her older sister.

"Party pooper," she growled, before victory dancing her way upstairs, chanting under her breath.

"We're going to kick some ass again, uh huh, oh yeah, we're going to beat up some bad guys, uh huh, yeah, that's right!"

She'd been waiting for this since she'd been replaced, set aside like an embarrassing set of childhood comforters by this thankless city. After all they had done for them, the countless times they had saved their asses when no one else could, only to be proclaimed unorthodox and morally questionable.

She smirked. But that was the past. Townsville and Ms. Bellum could suck it, Buttercup was back, and bigger than ever.

* * *

_11:55._

_…and 42 seconds._

Bubbles glanced up from her wrist watch, not wanting to watch the seconds tick by, but still having trouble resisting the urge to check the time every other moment. The three girls were seated on the steps of the Town Hall, backpacks besides them, waiting for noon to hurry up and get here all ready. Or, perhaps more specifically, their mysterious government escorts to hurry up and get here.

_11:56._

Trying to stop looking at her wrist, Bubbles rested her hands on the steps, tilting her head up towards the sky, admiring the beautiful color of sky. Not a single cloud drifted across the vastness of flawlessly light blue. The sun was bright and warm, but not too hot. Her favorite kind of weather.

_11:57_.

This time, Bubbles looked to her right, where her sisters were seated. Buttercup was glancing back and forth at the street in front of them, a wild light in her eyes. Blossom, on the other hand, was perfectly still, staring straight ahead of her where the sidewalk melted into the street.

_11:58._

Bubbles sighed, and looked back at the sky again. Just as she had begun to resign herself the sounds of downtown Townsville from her conciseness, Buttercup exclaimed loudly, jumping to her feet.

"Finally! It's here!"

Bubbles bounced up and grabbed her faded blue backpack, her eyes widening in appreciatively by the sight of the enormous black limo in front of them.

"Wow," she breathed, before falling into step next to and slightly behind Blossom.

As they approached the car, the passenger door opened and a sturdily built man in a black suit, and sporting tinted shades with and an ear piece stepped out – your typical body guard, straight from the B-grade spy movie of your choice.

"Hello. Blossom Utonium, Buttercup Utonium, and Bubbles Utonium." he addressed them in the deep, monotone voice also expected from aHollywoodactor.

"Good afternoon," replied Blossom warily.

"I'm Agent Frocks," he said, briefly flashing a golden badge in proof of his identity.

Bubbles watched with barely contained amusement as he opened their door and gestured them to the backseat, all with a detached, robotic air.

"We will be taking you to Townsville airport, where a private jet is waiting to fly you to headquarters. There, you will be given your mission details."

"Just what _exactly_ is our mission?" asked Blossom, eyes narrowed dangerously, displeased with the mystery.

"I repeat, you will be given mission details at headquarters," drawled Frocks placidly.

Blossom's eyes narrowed further and a small frown appeared. Not good signs for Frocks's well being. He was quickly migrating to Blossom's bad side, and no one wants to be on Blossom's bad side.

Bad place to be.

"And this mysterious and omniscient headquarters is – where?"

"The capitol."

Blossom bit the inside of her lip. Although her frustration was painfully obvious to Bubbles, who had always been a people person, Agent Frocks seemed to be unable, or unwilling to notice how pissed Blossom. Either that, or he simply didn't care, which was just as plausible.

As the brief conversation died inside the limo, Bubbles turned her attention to out side the window, just in time to see a sign which read:

_Townsville__ City Airport_

Eagerly, Bubbles nudged Blossom and pointed to the sign, her eyes full of excitement.

"Don't worry, we'll learn about our mission soon enough!" she whispered to the irritated pink puff, "Just a few more hours!"

* * *

_EDIT, 5/2012: No, I have not mysteriously lost three chapters. Due to length, I've been combing a lot of the first little ones from two years ago._

Also, I'd like to thank Loverofeverything for helping me create a totally awesome villain! Thanks a bunch!

P.S. Reviews are awesome...


	3. Chapter 2: Director Sherry Agathit

OMG! I don't know about you guys, but I have been waiting, and waiting, and WAITING for this chapter, because…

ENTER: ROWDYRUFFS!

*crickets chirp*

Okay. Whatever.

Thanks to everyone who reviewed! I'm writing this story for you guys, so knowing that you read it and like it is fantastically encouraging!

Also, on the note of reviews, to dispel Alactricity's fears, I will repeat, there will be no immediate romance. I promise. There will be hatred. Anger. Maybe even some violence.

With that cleared up, ya'll can continue to the chapter! That is, if you even bother reading author notes! Cuz I'm not sure if you do! Whatever! I'll stop babbling!

* * *

Blossom clenched her teeth slightly, waiting for the jolt of the plane's wheels against the ground.

**Er-erch!**

_Yep. Nothing quite like a plane landing._

As might be expected, none of the Powerpuffs had flown on airlines much, having no need really. But, considering the several hour flight, and the flightless humans accompanying them, the private jet waiting for them at Townsville airport had been their best choice.

Slowly, the plane skidded to a halt, and the fasten seat belt signs turned off. The girls unclipped their belts in a chorus of clinks, grabbed their backpacks, and followed the luggage-less Agent Frocks out the door, down a small set of stairs and onto the flat, black surface of the runway.

Bubbles hopped off the last step and the three girls turned to face their guide.

"Headquarters is not far away. Just a ten minute car ride."

Once again, they all piled into another waiting limo. The short trip from the small airport through D.C. was completed in perfect silence, until they pulled to a smooth stop in front of a large concrete and brick building that was about eight stories high. Bubbles already large blue eyes widened.

"Wow, it looks kinda scary."

Buttercup face-palmed. Blossom chuckled slightly.

"It'll be fine, Bubbles," reassured Blossom.

The three girls quickly exited the car and, with Agent Frocks following them up the front steps, the little group reached the pair of plain wooden doors. Blossom reached for a brass handle and yanked one heavy, stiff doors open, stepping into the interior of Frocks's headquarters, her sisters and escort entering directly behind her.

Frocks took the lead and the Powerpuffs trailed meekly after him, up stairways, through halls, passing many ominous and forbidding offices, most with windows allowing through a view to the hall, the others completely surrounded menacingly by plain, white washed walls.

Finally, after they reached the top floor, which was labeled, _"Director Agathit"_On this floor, there was no hallway, only one door, directly in front of the stairs. For the first time since their journey began, Frocks's face showed an emotion other than a passive glare. He gulped slightly, took a deep breath, and, as if he was trying not to give himself a chance to rethink his decision, he swiftly pulled open the single door and marched resolutely into Director Agathit's office. For a spilt second, Blossom hesitated before following Agent Frocks. Her knees felt slightly weaker, her throat constricted, and her stomach flip-flopped. It didn't take a doctor to diagnose her sudden illness: panicking nerves.

But Blossom had never been one to let her emotions get in control of her head, so, as swiftly as she had paused, she marched right after Frocks, Buttercup on her heels, Bubbles bringing up the rear.

Inside, Blossom found a sight that surprised her. The demon office she had just hesitated to enter turned out to be quite pleasant. It was a large, rectangular room, scarce of much furniture, giving it a roomy, spacious feeling. One entire length of the wall was a giant glass window with golden sunlight flooding through, offering a gorgeous view of downtown D.C.. In the center of the room, and slightly angled away the doorframe, was a large desk made of the same, old, dark wood as all the doors in the building.

Seated at the desk was a plump woman with short, fashionable brown hair who looked to be about forty, peering at them through a giant pair of reading glasses that made her eyes look bug-like and far too large for her head.

In front and to the side of the desk, Agent Frocks stood with his hands folded behind his back, obviously trying to be as expressionless as usual, but failing miserably. He looked as nervous as if he was standing next to a hungry lion about ready to pounce and he had been told to play dead and pray that it wouldn't hurt him.

"Hello, girls," said the woman, who Blossom presumed to be Director Agathit.

"Hello," they chorused as an automatic response, not quite sure what do in this situation.

"I'm Sherry Agathit, no need to introduce yourselves, I already know everything," said Sherry, patting a couple of folders neatly stacked beside her, "Won't you have a seat?"

They sat down in the three plain chairs she gestured to that were placed in front of her desk. Blossom took the one directly in front of Sherry, and noticed instantly that they were no armrests, her least favorite type of chair. What was she supposed to do with her hands, while this imposing woman stared down at her? Put them in her lap? Let them dangle? Fold her arms?

In the end, she decided to simply rest them on her thighs. Sherry blinked once or twice as she watched them settle themselves.

"Well, I suppose you are eager to know why we called you here, unless," Sherry turned her strangely enormous and disapproving eyes to Frocks, who swallowed loudly, "Unless, this idiot went against regulations and blabbed."

"No Ma'am!" Frocks said gruffly, staring straight at the wall in front of him, not daring to make eye contact with his boss.

Sherry narrowed her giant eyeballs, not looking reassured at all. Bubbles, as usual, taking pity on every creature that existed on the face of the planet, intervened.

"No, he didn't, he really didn't, we swear!"

Still not impressed with her agent, Sherry turned back to stare the three teenagers she was faced with.

"So you say. Either, whatever damage already created can't be undone, so – "

"But he didn't!"

Blossom clapped a hand over her sister's mouth.

"Don't mind her, just please continue. What is our mission?"

Indignantly, Bubbles glared down at her sister's hand and pried it off her face. Nonetheless, she was sufficiently subdued to understand that arguing with this woman was going to get them nowhere.

Half-amused, half-annoyed, Sherry cast Bubbles a swift glance, before returning her wide gaze to the audience in general.

"As I was saying, mission details."

Eagerly, the puffs leaned slightly. Sherry paused, blinked, sighed, and removed her glasses, her eyes morphing into a more human size.

"About six months ago, Europe began to suffer from wide spread attacks across her major cities. Rome, Milan, Berlin, Madrid, Barcelona, Paris, Lyon, London. Everywhere really. Always in major cities. Always the same crime. Murder."

Sherry paused, probably for dramatic effect, or perhaps to let the information sink in. Blossom nibbled on the inside of her bottom lip impatiently.

"In every crime scene, there was always one victim. When the body was analyzed, there was obvious damage caused by physical attacks, but, also, every victim's brain was damaged. Traces of an overload of hormones and chemicals. Sometimes even a rupture. Before each person died, they were in highly severe mental trauma."

Again, Sherry stopped, and turned to face the last retreating rays of sunshine the late afternoon offered, and, once again, she turned back to look at the Powerpuffs.

"One other consistency. Next to each body, was written one sentence. 'Everyone has a weakness.' No countries' military, spies, or any other crime busting agency has discovered anything, or been able to prevent a single death. This villain is a shadow. He leaves no traces, and has no apparent goal other than to terrorize human-kind. And he is doing a very, very good job of it.

"You might be wondering where exactly you come into this. The fact is normal humans simply aren't capable of fighting him, or her, or whatever we're up against. But then again, you aren't normal humans are you?"

For the third time, she paused, almost as if she expected an answer, even though her face and voice clearly told them she already knew. None of the girls responded.

"Anyways, the attacks have spread. Asian countries have reported numerous attacks. And, two weeks ago, New York was hit. We've decided to take more drastic measures. So, we recruited you, the Titans of Townsville – the Powerpuff Girls."

Blossom stared at Director Sherry Agathit. This was way more serious than she had imagined. Perhaps breaking into an enemy base and retrieving stolen technology, or maybe rounding up a gang of drug dealers. She never considered chasing after a frighteningly elusive mass murderer that no government in the world could handle.

"And how exactly do you propose we catch this mass murderer? You say the attacks are all over the world!" exclaimed Buttercup, unknowingly voicing Blossom's thoughts.

"Yes, each of you will take one continent."

"One continent!" echoed Buttercup, "Do you realize how big a continent is?"

Sherry frowned menacingly at the green puff.

"Yes, you little brat, I know how big a continent is, but were you listening to anything I said? The attacks only occur in major cities. So, you'll each stay to the biggest cluster of major cities on your continent."

"But still, that's a lot of area to cover," said Blossom, her eyebrows knitting together in concern.

"Of course. You will have partners. We find that is usually missions, especially on this scale, teams of two work splendidly. Oh, and one other note, the general public has yet to be informed. World wide panic would not help the state of things, so you should keep a low profile. Tourists, or some other believable story that you and your partners decide."

Timidly, Bubbles raised her hand.

"Question."

Scowling, Sherry turned her gaze to Bubbles, who gulped slightly, trying hard not to offend the grumpy lady again.

"Who are our partners?"

"You've actually met them before. They have quite impressive abilities, just like you."

"Abilities like ours?" Buttercup said slowly, "You mean super-powers?"

"But who else has super-powers like us? And we know them?" ask Bubbles, her innocent face scrunched up in serious thought.

Blossom was silent, her brain was working frantically to attempt to identify super-heroes from their past. After a moment of analyzing their busy childhood career, she could not summon to mind a single person with super-pow – _oh wait – crap, she didn't say super-heroes, she said…that could mean…oh, crap, this is not good, if I'm right… does she know they're evil? Does she really expect us to cooperate with them?_

Blossom opened her mouth to ask a question, but before she could even take a breath to utter a sound, a beep sounded from a small black box sitting on Sherry's desk. The director pushed a button, and snapped,

"Yes?"

A crackling, static- filled voice blared into the room.

"Agent Daves has returned with his charges. He's on his way up."

"Fine."

Sherry released the button from her round, firm finger. She looked up and smiled a wicked-looking grin directly at Blossom, as if she knew what she was thinking.

"Hold that thought, dear, you can confirm for yourself in a few seconds."

Buttercup and Bubble's heads snapped to stare at Blossom, who closed her mouth and pursed her lips, waiting as directed.

"Who?" hissed Buttercup, one eyebrow raised at the hard look on Blossom's face.

"We'll see," she answered calmly, not wanting to drag old enemies out of their history, but prepared for the worst nonetheless.

A few agonizing seconds passed in utter silence as every ear in the room strained to hear footfalls.

The door handle turned.

Suddenly, Blossom turned around in her chair, not wanting to face them, a sinking feeling in her gut telling her she was right.

Buttercup and Bubbles turned even farther around, eager to see. Frocks stared at the door very intently, most likely because it was his only escape route. Sherry leaned back in her chair, patient enough to wait and watch the scene unfold.

The door opened.

Blossom heard the first foot step onto the carpet in Sherry's office, and her entire body tensed. As three other pairs of feet followed the first, the most unbearably still moment of the day consumed the office.

Finally, Bubbles broke the horribly stillness with a soft gasp. Buttercup's fists audibly tightened on the back of her chair. Then, a soft chuckle sounded through the room. His voice had deepened since he was five, but there was no mistaking that snicker as anybody else, but her counterpart, Brick.

"Well, isn't this a blast from the past?"

Forcing her rigid body to move, Blossom faced the intruders. There they were, standing in their usual positions, identical mimicry of the girls' own favored spots. The Rowdyruff Boys, the male, evil versions of The Powerpuff Girls.

Some distant memory of crime-fighting inside of Blossom suddenly clicked, and her brain automatically began to analyze the villains in front of her, in a process she jokingly called, 'checking them out.'

She swept her gaze over the group. They wore all black, but around their right fore arm and left ankle was a thick band of their signature color. Their outfits were flexible, not much protection, but allowing for fast movement and speed. Although their black clothes weren't tight-fitting, the boys looked pretty muscular. They didn't look tired, sleep deprived, wounded, hungry, or thirsty. This physical analysis, combined with previous knowledge about abilities and methods of fighting, put the three boys at a level 10 threat risk. Preferable battle plan: engage in combat right here in Sherry's contained office, hopefully ending it quickly.

Sherry's loud voice shattered her concentration.

"Well, it's been a long time since you've seen each other, hasn't it been?"

"Not long enough," snarled Buttercup.

Sherry looked as if she was about to be angry again, but instead, changed her mind at the last second, and sighed, rubbing a plump hand across her eyes.

"I knew this wasn't going to be easy," she mumbled.

Sherry removed her hand from her face, rested her palms on her desk, and pushed herself to her feet.

"Look, this is going to take a little explaining. But first, you boys received the secure video and already watched it?"

The Rowdyruffs nodded in unison.

"All right, you know what the girls know. But I'm going to fill in the holes on each other's pasts.

"For the last ten years, the girls have been retired, as in not fighting any crime. They have been leading mostly normal lives with their father figure and creator. They went to high school, did their homework, got good grades, played sports, etc. Now we are recruiting them again for this mission, which calls for their special talents, which you boys share."

Brick's eyes narrowed, and he glared straight at Blossom, who returned the hard stare.

Butch frowned.

"So, they've been slacking off?"

Buttercup hissed angrily and stood up, as if to attack her loud-mouthed counterpart, but Agent Frocks and Agent Daves immediately barred the way. Buttercup's frown deepened, but she returned to her seat.

Sherry shook her head.

"No, they've remained athletically active, and they fought very intensely when they were younger, and such fighting is not easily forgotten. So, after much debate, we decided that the Powerpuff girls were fit for this mission."

Buttercup stuck her tongue out at the boys; Butch rolled his dark green eyes and re-settled his short attention span on Sherry, who gave a slight nod and continued.

"As for the Rowdyruffs. This is going to take a little longer to explain. Well, as you girls probably remember well, they used to terrorize Townsville with their super-powers, mostly to just get a fight out of you. After you retired, and the new police force came in, many villains tried to escape. Most didn't succeed, but the Rowdyruff Boys were some of the few who managed to get out of town.

"They lay low for a while, committing petty crimes to survive, until they 'met' Professor Strogoy, who was one of the world's leading physiatrists. He talked them into staying with him for a while, and after some time, convinced them to give up crime. A few years ago, the poor man was kidnapped, and to this day, the government has been unable to locate him. He's now presumed dead, most probably by the hands of foreign agents.

"That's when the boys decided to put their powers to use by joining the CIA. They've become an elite squad, given only the most dangerous and difficult missions. In fact, not even I'm given the full details of some of their missions, and I'm a pretty high up in the system."

Sherry finally stopped talking, carefully watching the six teens like a tiger before it pounces.

Blossom spared the boys a glance to see how the rant about their recent past had affected them. Brick was still gazing at Sherry, probably avoiding looking at the girls. Butch's arms were crossed across his chest and he was staring holes through the floor. Boomer was glancing nervously at each of them, and when his eyes me Blossom's, he too dropped his gaze to the carpet.

All was silent, as the girls absorbed this new information, and the boys looked anywhere but the girls. Finally, Blossom broke the gap in conversation.

"So, we're just supposed to accept the fact that the Rowdyruffs, who were created to destroy us, have suddenly turned good and have been working for the government all these years? You've got to be kidding me."

Sherry shook her head, again running her hand across her face.

"Like I said, this is going to take a while, isn't it?"

Bubble's eyebrows were furrowed together in confusion.

"So, you just let them join the CIA, just like that? They had a criminal record and all that, didn't they?"

"Yes, they did, but since they were five at the time of the crimes, had been created and raised by an evil monkey, they were pardoned a long time before they decided to apply to the CIA. With a little help from Professor Strogoy, it wasn't too hard. After all, their biggest offence was beating you three to a pulp, correct?"

Buttercup folded her arms across her chest and huffed. Blossom knew she didn't like to be reminded of rare occasions she had been beaten. As a matter of fact, now that Blossom thought about it, the Rowdyruffs had been the first, and most certainly, one of the few villains who were able to truthfully say they ground the Powerpuffs into the ground, quite literally too.

Bubbles pipped up, snapping Blossom out of her momentary reverie and back into the hostility that was practically crackling in the air.

"Well, they did steal a little boy's candy once…"

A pause filled the room.

"Yeah, like I said, the Rowdyruffs didn't really have a villainous goal," Sherry said dryly.

"But they were villains nonetheless," added Blossom, "And I know for a fact, that we are not going to work with them on this case."

"Same goes for us," Brick snapped, finally returning the glowers the puffs were throwing at him and his brothers, "We don't work with amateurs like these brats."

Sherry sighed, definitely not for the first time this evening, and most certainly not for the last.

"Okay knuckleheads, here's what I'm going to do."

* * *

Wow, this is my longest chapter, ever! Over three times as long than my last one!

The reason is because I just got back from a camping trip, where, I had no internet connection, but I did have Microsoft word, so I spent my free time typing this whopper of an update. And now, after a thirteen hour car ride back home -_- I'm putting the finishing touches to the chapter before I sleep in my real bed for the first time in six sleep deprived days.

And, because I want to see what happens as much as you guys, I'll try to crank out the next chapter before the weekend is over.

So…

Anyway, thanks for reading! :)


	4. Chapter 3: Classic Mistake

Hey guys. :P

Here's the next chapter, a little later than planned, but, eh, close enough…

* * *

Buttercup's eyes narrowed as she waited to hear exactly what Sherry planned to do. The plump woman walked around the edge of her desk, and stood in between the two groups of feuding teens.

"I'm going to tell you the complete and total truth."

Everyone blinked.

_Not what I was expecting…_

"We need you. The world needs you. We're incapable of defeating this threat; that has been proven without a doubt. Without you, the murders will continue, he or it or whatever will gain confidence, and try something bigger. And we will be powerless to stop him."

Sherry stopped, and took a deep breath, for once her features not twisted in a furious glare, a predatory smirk, or an exasperated stare. She looked uncertain, and perhaps a little fearful, although it was obvious she was trying to stifle such an emotion in front of Frocks and Daves.

Buttercup cast a swift glance at her sisters. Bubbles looked like she wanted to agree, but wasn't quite sure. Blossom didn't look as impressed. Her pink eyes were hard and piercing, but not unapproachable. It seemed she was simply considering.

Buttercup was undecided. They couldn't let the world crash and burn. That just…wouldn't work. Buttercup wasn't going to sit back and watch the world dissolve beneath her.

_I wonder what she means by "try something bigger"… Nothing good, that's for sure. World domination? Or perhaps world destruction. Neither sits well in my book._

But, on the other hand, these were the Rowdyruff Boys. Buttercup wasn't their biggest fan, and she never would be. For example, when they first met them, the boys, had beat the crap out of her and left her for dead. Their relationship never did improve.

_And didn't Sherry mention something about teams of two? Partners? Ugh, I think I know where this is going… Fantastic. Not._

So in the end, Buttercup figured, it boiled down to working with them, or watching the world get taken over.

Buttercup sighed. Unfortunately, it was obvious what she had to pick. She knew no matter how long she and her sisters hesitated, they would still end up picking the only considerable option.

Finally, Blossom voiced the unavoidable.

"We'll cooperate."

Sherry nodded and turned her attention to the boys. Brick sighed and rolled his eyes.

"Fine. It's not as if we have a real choice, do we?"

Sherry didn't respond to Brick's smartass comment.

"Good. Now, not to repeat myself, but you will have partners."

Buttercup tensed, prepared for the worst.

"After much consideration, we decided to go with traditional teams of two, which means three pairs. Red, Green, and Blue."

The puffs and ruffs simultaneously winced, before looking at their respective counterparts. The Blues uncertainly surveyed. The Greens furiously glared. The Reds coldly observed.

Sherry frowned slightly as she watched the apparent antagonism.

"Okay, break it up. You guys will have to learn to survive each other's company. Anyway, you'll each get a continent. Blues, you two will stay here and guard North America, mostly the USA. Reds, you two get Europe. Greens, off to Asia. You all will spend the night at a nearby hotel. You leave in the morning. I'll see you then."

With these final words, Sherry turned on her heel and stalked back to her desk with dignity, dismissing them without another word. This meeting was over, there was no more to say.

Agent Frocks and Agent Daves exchanged a brief glance before nodding at their charges to follow. Obediently, the six trailed after their escorts, following them outside, across the street, around the corner, and through the doors of a fancy, four star hotel.

Frocks traded few words with the hotel manager, while Daves waited with their teenage responsibilities. Within a few minutes, Frocks returned, gave them a brief nod and walked stiffly towards the elevator.

Wordlessly, they followed. As they entered the elevator, the puffs crowded one corner, eager to keep away from the ruffs, who also squished themselves into the side of the elevator. Frocks and Daves stood in the middle, as stoic and silent as ever. The only noise to be heard in the small moving box was the cheesy music in the background.

Finally, the reached the ninth floor, and the entire company burst out of the overcrowded confines of the elevator. The two agents walked about twenty feet down the hall and stopped, turning to face the six young people following them. Then, for the first time since Buttercup had laid eyes on the man, Agent Daves spoke.

"We have two rooms, 917, and 918. One for the Powerpuffs, and one for the Rowdyruffs. We'll be back here at 7:00 am precisely. Be ready."

Frocks handed Brick and Blossom each a room card, and together, Frocks and Daves stalked quickly back to the elevator and slipped in, leaving the six to their own devices for the next eleven hours until 7:00 am.

A brief moment of silence fill the hallway as the rival teams stood outside their doors.

"Well, uh, we'd love to chat and catch up on the good ol' times and all that rot, but we're going to hit the sack," said Brick in an obviously fake friendly voice, before sliding his door key through and leading his brothers in, but not before Butch could throw her one last glare, which Buttercup returned with just as much hatred.

Blossom rolled her eyes at her sadistic counterpart, before mimicking his movements and sliding her door key. 917 was a typical hotel room, with two queen beds, a mini fridge, and a small bathroom.

The three girls stood in the doorway, simply looking at it's normalness.

_How can anything be normal? Nothing's normal! Gah! 72 hours ago, my biggest worry was that I hadn't studied enough for mid-term exams! Now, here I am, in a fancy hotel in __D.C__., about to leave for __Asia__, __with Butch__ of the Rowdyruff boys, who I haven't even thought of in the past __ten years!_

Shaking her head at the insanity of it all, Buttercup plopped her backpack down on the ground, and, with a flying leap, bounced heavily onto the nearest bed and spread her arms and legs out across the mattress.

"This one's mine!"

Bubbles rolled her eyes and giggled slightly, before running into the bathroom and locking the door behind her.

"I get the shower first!"

Buttercup smirked.

"What are you going to claim, Blossom?"

Blossom dropped her backpack unceremoniously on the ground next to Buttercup's.

"I claim having the most annoying counterpart," she moaned.

"No you don't! Brick is a monster, but Butch is over-the-top, unspeakably horrible!"

Bubbles was silent in the bathroom.

"Bubbles? Isn't Boomer annoying to you?" asked Buttercup curiously.

Their 'youngest' sister's voice finally echoed through the door.

"Well, he was evil, and that's why I hated him, but if what Sherry says is true about them being good now…I'm not sure."

Buttercup scoffed.

"I bet it's all an act. I think their trying to worm their way up the system so they can sell secrets out or something. Once a criminal, always a criminal. I don't trust them."

* * *

Okay, so, yeah. Not much to say…

Except, please review! Please? I was kind of disappointed by the amount of reviews my last, triple length chapter raked in. Chapter 4 got a grand total of...*drum roll* 1 review!

Yeah…

So review!

Other than that, thanks for taking the time to read my humble little story :)


	5. Chapter 4: People Can Change

Argh, already back to Bubbles. It's not that I don't like her character, far from it, I think she's cute. But I find it really hard to write from her POV. Oh well, I'll try my best to do her justice.

Oh yeah, I changed the title! Again! *hangs head in shame for inconsistency*

But inconsistency is okay! Right?...right?...guys?…um…uh oh *runs*

Anywho, while I'm running, you can have Chapter 6.

:P

* * *

From inside the bathroom, Bubbles frowned at her sister's comment.

"That's not true!" she protested, "People can change!"

"Yeah, people change, but from good to bad? So quickly? And the Rowdyruffs, of all people?" came Buttercup's voice floating through the door.

Bubbles frown deepened.

It wasn't like she especially favored Boomer. But she did know that people changed, and Bubbles was willing to argue her case with any example that showed at least a hint of promise. She believed in humanity, even if a certain green sister didn't.

"Give them a chance! I'm not saying they really changed, but we haven't seen them in ten years! How do we know anything about their lives? I say we let them try to be good."

Even through the door separating them, Bubbles could hear Buttercup scoff.

"You know I'm right, Buttercup!" she shouted through the door, and, in an angry huff, turned on the shower to drown out their voices.

_Honestly, could she not be so distrustful all the time? People do change, she knows that, but she's just so stubborn!_

After showering, and changing into her PJs, she flounced out of the bathroom, having cooled off from her argument with Buttercup, who was still sprawled on her bed, and sat down on the bed she would have to share with Blossom.

"Can we order room service?"

"Good idea," replied Blossom.

Twenty minutes later, the room service arrived and they chowed down. Buttercup turned on the T.V, and they watched mindless junk for the next hour until it was finally late enough and dark enough to go to bed.

Teeth brushed, lights off, and face smooshed against her pillow, Bubbles stared out across the dark room, waiting for sleep to come. With a small sigh, she rolled over, facing Blossom's back.

She was completely exhausted, but still, too many important thoughts were whirring through her mind to allow her to sleep.

_This villain sounds horrible, not like anyone back in Townsville…And my sisters are leaving for different places, and I'll still be here, with Boomer. Oh dear, this is going to be hard. I'm going to miss my sisters, and at the same time, I'll have to be strong in front of Boomer. And be strong for the world._

_And…we'll be traveling a lot it sounds like. We'll get to see cool places! But…we have to catch the villain too…_

Her brain stared slowing down as exhaustion consumed her, but what was about to happen tomorrow seemed far more important than resting.

_7:00…we meet them at 7:00…*yawn* That'll be exciting…yeah…_

The sentences in her head were reduced to phrases of words in her growing drowsiness.

_I hope…Boomer will be nice…he doesn't look too mean…and…there's that…scary villain, murderer…got to stop…him…*snore*_

Finally, Bubbles drifted asleep, her foggy mind shut down and she slipped into a deep slumber, which wasn't disturbed until the alarm Blossom set went off at 6:30.

* * *

Wow, I surprised myself. Two chapters in one day! O.o

Yay! Reviews! You guys make me happy! *jumps up and down in joy*

And, yes, Bubblycutie, you were the one reviewer for Chapter 5. *gives her a virtual milkshake as a reward*

Also, Alactricity, I liked your analogy! Makes perfect sense, and indeed, we are about to get into the "meat and potatoes." Action time! Yay for plot development!

And, just in general, thanks for all the support and encouragement, all my wonderful reviewers!

*bounces up and down uncontrollably in happiness and pure hyperness*

((P.S. I'm on a sugar high :P))


	6. Chapter 5: Parting Ways

Hey peoples! Okay, so I'm bringing in my sister today, who has reviewed my story twice under the anonymous name of Randomness. Her reviews don't make much sense, but that's because she often doesn't :P Anywho, here she is.

*Randomness suddenly pops out of nowhere, looks around for a second, then strikes a superhero pose*

Randomness: Dun-dun-DUN! Here I am!

…

Randomness: Why am I here?

LittleMissFutureToBe: Because I brought you here.

Randomness: Oh, this is your fanfic, isn't it sis?

LittleMissFutureToBe: Yes. And I brought you here to break some news that I haven't had the heart to tell my readers.

Randomness: Okayyy….what news?

LittleMissFutureToBe: THE news.

Randomness: Oh! Right! *clears throat importantly* My dear older sister will be abandoning you all for six months by going and being a foreign exchange student in France. She won't be allowed to update for those six months.

* LittleMissFutureToBe nods solemnly*

LittleMissFutureToBe: Sorry guys, but I didn't find out until recently! And when I signed up for the program, they told me it was really, really unlikely that I'd get in! So I didn't bother to tell you! I'm really excited and nervous to go, but also sad that I won't be allowed to speak/write/read in English. So, that's my news…I leave in 32 days, and counting. I'll update as often as I can before I leave!

**

* * *

**

**Beep, beep, beep.**

Groggily, Blossom reached out to the small bedside table and flung her hand around, nearly knocking the reading lamp off before finding the small and annoying digital clock which was being so rudely intrusive into her lovely little dream world. After a second of two of simply laying in bed, staring at the ceiling, she finally decided to move. Blossom ripped the covers off her body and sprinted to the bathroom, not wanting to have to face the temptation to simply snuggle back in bed.

_Even though my pillow is soft, and the blankets are warm - No! If I think like that I'm going to get back in bed and miss our 7:00 meeting._

She had set the little hotel clock to go off at 6:30, to give her and Bubbles enough time to get up and make themselves presentable, while Buttercup rolled out of bed.

_Ugh, she does love to sleep. I guess if I wanted to give __her__ enough time to get ready, I would have to get her up half an hour earlier. But that's thirty minutes that I wouldn't get to sleep! Hmph. She can scramble to get out the door, half an hour is perfectly reasonable._

Bubbles was quick to follow Blossom's lead, and, as predicted, Buttercup didn't drag her lazy bones out of her private queen bed until 6:51.

Bubbles wrung her hands anxiously.

"Buttercup! Hurry up! We can't leave without you, and you're going to be late if you keep moving like a sloth!"

Buttercup shot her a sleepy glare before shuffling to the bathroom to get changed and brush her teeth, and hopefully have enough time to brush her hair.

Blossom sighed, checked the hotel room one more time to make sure they hadn't forgotten anything, before slinging her bag over one shoulder.

"Buttercup, we're leaving! Come on!"

Blossom and Bubbles heard some frantic scrambling before the door was flung back open, with Buttercup still shoving her toothbrush in her backpack.

"I'm here, let's go!"

After rolling her pink eyes at her sister's tardiness, she opened the door and led the girls out in the empty hall. Buttercup scowled.

"You made me hurry for nothing?"

"Buttercup, just because the boys are late, doesn't mean we are going to be."

Buttercup mumbled something unintelligible, before readjusting her pack. The seconds ticked by, as Blossom patiently waited for any sign of life in the hall.

Finally, the door to the girls' right swung out into the hall, and the puffs braced themselves, not for impact, but interaction.

Sure enough, the boys, now dressed in normal clothes, trooped into the hall. First came Brick, followed by Boomer, with a sleepy-looking Butch trailing after them. Blossom cast a quick glance at Buttercup, who was wearing an eerily similar look of tiredness.

_Ugh, counterparts…_

The silence in the hall continued as the two groups of three faced each other for a brief moment, before all six simultaneously slumped against the wall to wait. But, fortunately for them, just as they got themselves settled, the soft ding of the elevator down the hall hit the six pairs of super-powered ears. Everyone perked up.

To Blossom's disappointment, the two men who came out of the elevator and started walking towards them couldn't be Frocks or Daves. They were average-looking guys in jeans and t-shirts, no dark glasses or suits. But they stopped in front of the teens anyway.

Blossom peered closely at the tallest, before it clicked. It was Frocks, wearing street clothes and looking far more human than he had appeared yesterday. But, if one looked closely, you could still see the ear piece, although it was more discreetly hidden.

"Are you ready?" asked the other guy, who Blossom now knew to be Agent Daves.

"Yeah," a few of them mumbled before everyone grabbed their backpacks and trailed their guides down the elevator, into the lobby, across the street, and into a coffee shop.

The few people in the shop glanced up when they entered, but they quickly went back to sipping their drinks or reading newspapers without much interest. The air inside was warm and slightly muggy, smelling heavily of fresh coffee, pastries, and the leather briefcases all the business men were lugging around with them.

Frocks and Daves led them to a medium-sized table where the Sherry sat with an untouched coffee, her fingers laced in front of her. She nodded in recognition as they sat down. Blossom had the great misfortune of being too slow to grab an outside seat, and therefore was forced to sit next to Butch, who looked displeased as well. Awkwardly, Blossom scooted closer to Bubbles, who was on her other side, while Butch shifted towards Brick.

Sherry smiled pleasantly, but Blossom was not fooled. This woman wasn't the kind, we're-such-great-friends type. Underneath her seemingly innocent exterior, she was hardworking and cunning; otherwise her job would have killed her by now.

"Good morning," Sherry said, receiving mumblings of greeting from the disgruntled teens in front of her.

"Today, you will all be setting off. Blues, you will take a train to Now York. Daves will drop you at the station. You others will be dropped off at the D.C. airport by Frocks. You will be taking the regular airlines to blend in. Greens, your plane leaves at 8:30. Reds, you have more time; you take off at 11:45."

When she got no response, she opened her purse and pulled out six small boxes, handing one to each.

"Later, put those on. They're tracker watches which also allow us to communicate with you. **Don't** fiddle with them though. Also, you need to think of a story to use, in case people ask. It can be whatever you like, as long as it's believable. You can even change as you go along, I don't care, but act natural," here, she lowered her voice slightly, "No one can know who you are and what you're supposed to be doing."

Blossom internally sighed.

_Yes, yes, we know, you told us already; do we look stupid? Just hurry up and get on with it!_

"Boys, all other mission details remain the same, explain to the girls yourself, I don't have time. One last thing: work together. You're a team, don't fight. We have one golden rule: sooner, better, sooner, better. The sooner you learn to work together, the better you'll do, the sooner you can part ways, and that is better for all parties involved. Understood?"

All six nodded reluctantly, and Sherry stood up, the teens following suit. They all grabbed their backpacks and prepared to leave, but Sherry held up a hand.

"Daves, Frocks, stay with the Greens and Blues for a moment. Blossom, Brick, I need a word."

The Reds exchanged a quick glance before following Sherry into the empty recesses of the coffee shop, where no one was sitting. Sherry spoke again, her voice barely audible.

"Listen carefully, I have a special mission for you two. You could say it is a side trip. Brick, you need to visit your 'family' with Blossom. The attacks originated at their 'home,' so you need to see if they have anything to do with anything."

Brick nodded slightly, his face looking a little darker than before, as if the idea of his 'family' wasn't altogether pleasing. Sherry's eyes suddenly widened, and her voice rose back up to its original pitch.

"Oh, yes, almost forgot. Pink and red aren't really normal eye colors, so you'll need to wear these to fit in with the crowds."

Once again reaching into her purse, Sherry pulled out two pairs of contact cases, which Brick and Blossom grudgingly took.

"Put them in at the airport; don't forget to keep them clean. Now, come on, go say bye to your precious little siblings before Frocks drops you off; the Greens are going to miss their flight if we don't hurry it up."

Briskly, she walked back to the group waiting by the door, where the agents where standing nonchalantly with the Greens and the Blues.

Bubbles's eyes looked a little watery, but instead of crying she just enveloped her sisters in a group, bone-crushing hug, which they both returned, even if Buttercup grumbled a bit.

They quickly pulled apart, realizing that time was precious. Curious, Blossom glanced over at Brick and his brothers to see how they were handling their goodbyes. They were standing close together, and Brick was whispering something, which Boomer and Butch nodded to, before Boomer walked over the Daves, while Brick and Butch went to stand by Frocks.

_Hm. Not completely emotionless…but, perhaps he was just giving them his own orders for the mission...I don't know what to think._

But, Blossom really didn't have time to think, because Frocks and Daves quickly exited the coffee shop. As they turned to go their separate ways out the door, Blossom threw one glance over her shoulder, catching a fleeting glimpse of her sister and Boomer following Daves around the corner of the block. Then, she had to pay attention to keep up with her group through the crowed streets of early morning downtown D.C.

She and the others followed Frocks to a parking building, where he opened a regular looking brown sedan. Buttercup mocked indigence, and whispered into Blossom's ear,

"What? No limo? How dare they?"

Blossom chuckled, before realizing that someone was going to get shotgun. Unfortunatly, just as she started to run to the passenger door, Brick jumped in front of her, and smirked.

"Too slow, Pinky."

Blossom scowled.

"Don't. Call. Me. Pinky."

"Oooo, someone's prickly."

"Moron," Blossom hissed under her breath.

She stomped over to the other door, and climbed in. Buttercup entered from the other side, taking her seat in the middle, with Butch following her in and closing the door. Frocks pulled the car out and joined the fray of traffic outside. It was a mostly silent and uneventful trip to the airport, which no one in the car particularly enjoyed.

Frocks dropped them off in the airport lobby and handed them their tickets.

"Bye everyone. If everything goes well, you'll never see me again."

And with that cheery goodbye, Agent Frocks walked out of the airport, and hopefully out of their lives.

* * *

Eh, I could have kept going, but I decided to cut it there for a smoother ending.

Oh yeah! Almost forgot! I was kind of bored, and didn't have my computer with me, so I drew a picture of how I imagine Brick in this story. Why Brick, you ask? Cuz he's awesome and my favorite, that's why. Anyway, I made a DeviantArt account just so you guys could see it if you want. The link is down below. You guys can imagine him anyway you want (it is a fanfic) but this is my version of the Rowdyruff leader.

littlemissfuturetobe. deviantart. com/art/Brick-Jojo-172322982 (without spaces of course)

Review please! :)


	7. Chapter 6: 8:30 Flight

Thanks for all the awesome reviews and support about going to France ^^ I'll try to update more consistently than I have been. Although, I have a question: would you prefer medium-length chapters frequently, or longer chapters with slightly slower updates?

Also, I decided that from this point on, each chapter will be partly from the puff's POV, and partly from her respective ruff's.

* * *

"Nice seeing ya…" muttered Buttercup sarcastically as Frocks disappeared into the crowds of people exiting and entering the airport.

The four pairs of eyes then flicked from the doors, back to their own little dysfunctional group. Butch glanced from Brick, to Buttercup, and back to Brick.

"Well, off through security?"

Simultaneously, Brick and Blossom nodded, before taking off in the lead, but after the first couple of steps, they stopped and glared at each other.

"Excuse me," said Brick dryly.

Blossom looked him up and down, and with a sneer, said, "You're excused," before taking off in the lead again.

Brick, obviously not expecting such a trampling on his pride, put his long legs to work and swiftly caught up with Blossom, who glared.

"Stop trying to be so in control!" she snapped.

"Oh, look who's talking!" said Brick with just as much annoyance.

Internally, Buttercup sighed.

She knew that this would happen, the moment she realized who their partners were.

Blossom was such a leader; and Buttercup would admit that her 'older' sister was cut out for the job. And, if Brick was even remotely similar to her, he would have the same, take-charge attitude. And everyone knows when two strong forces collide, there's friction.

Bubbles was the soft one; her feelings often overruled her judgment, for better or for worse. And, on the rare occasion she had tackled Boomer, Buttercup knew that he too often hesitated before he put the hurt in the dirt. Together, their emotions would get the best of them, and they would end up in a complete and total mess which would require some heavy bailing out.

…don't get her even started on her and Butch. They were the aggressive ones. When they fought, their shared goal was to put the other in the grave, or at least on life support. Their fighting styles were almost exactly the same – with no holding back, no regrets, and lots of insults. Asia would be lucky if it still existed when the Greens were done working together there.

All in all, Sherry must be the dumbest cow on the face of the planet if she wanted to put the counterparts together for any extended length of time.

But, Buttercup quickly brought herself back to the moment, and rolled her eyes at the squabbling leaders.

"All right, all right already! Let's tone the egos down a bit and get a move on!" surprised, Buttercup turned to stare at Butch, who looked just as annoyed as she felt.

Blossom and Brick looked taken aback as well, but grudgingly continued walking, making a miniature, discreet competition out of who could get their foot in front faster.

After they went through customs, Buttercup pulled out the tracker watch Sherry had given her. It was slightly larger and denser than most watches, but other than that it blended in with normal wrist watches quite well. It was jet black, told the time, and, upon further inspection, had a small microphone and miniature speakers that could be used for transiting and receiving messages.

The others put theirs on as well, examining the small, high-tech devices that told Sherry and her workers their exact location. Brick however, decided to use the simplest feature that watch offered.

"Hey, you guys, it's 8:10. Butch and Buttercup might want to get over to their flight."

_For once, the bossy ruff is right, we're going to miss our flight if we don't get a move on._

* * *

Butch sighed exasperatedly.

"Yes, Mom," Butch said contemptuously, mimicking a small child's voice.

Brick rolled his red eyes and shrugged.

"Fine, miss your flight. Go ahead, tell that demon woman why you need to reschedule."

Butch had to admit, telling Sherry that they had simply been to slow to get on their plane would not be the most fun experience in his life, but Brick's eternal bossing was grating on his nerves. Yes, he was the leader, yes, he did a good job, yes, Butch would be nowhere without him, but seriously, the guy needed to take a chill pill every once in a while. Butch could handle himself.

A quick glance at the departure board told Butch to go to gate J14. He snatched his bag, slung it over his shoulder and started walking down the alphabetical rows of gates.

"Well, have fun in Europe, Brickster, Blossy. Come on, Buttercup let's go. That is, if you can keep up."

Even though she was behind him, Butch knew that his counterpart was scowling.

"Sure, snails aren't that hard to follow."

Butch, catching the reference to his creation, tossed a glare over his shoulder, receiving just a nasty of a look in return.

Blossom shouted after the two retreating Greens.

"Try to leave Asia in one piece!"

In response, Butch flipped the pink puff off, without even bothering to turn around. In response to that, Buttercup whacked him on the back of the head with her pack.

Even though the smack stung, Butch decided to pretend it didn't hurt in the least.

"Wow, BC, you've really gotten soft."

"Soft? How dare you? I'm going to – "

"Eh eh eh, let's not have a full on brawl in the middle of the airport. You wouldn't want to be humiliated in front of so many people."

"You are such a – a – "

"Too awesome for words? I know, trust me."

"Actually, I couldn't think of the words to use because I too busy worrying if ugly is contagious."

All the while they had been exchanging blows, literally and figuratively, the pair had been rushing towards gate J14, and just at that moment, they had arrived. Together they fumbled with their packs, before snatching out the plane tickets Sherry had supplied.

The stewardess examined both pieces of paper before gesturing to the plane. Once they were seated, side by side in the business class section, Butch continued the 'conversation.'

"Wait, if you already have the disease, you don't really have to worry about catching it, right?"

"I couldn't have gotten it yet, I've been able to avoid you quite well so far."

"Face it Buttercup, you haven't been able to drag your loving gaze from my beautiful body since we reunited."

"Butch, what are you on?"

Both stopped speaking as they realized they had the attention of the stewardess and the row behind them. Awkwardly, they stopped speaking, choosing to simply give each other one last, withering glare before ignoring each other for the safety talk.

* * *

God, I love those two. Heh, heh, heh, so much fun to write!

Thanks for reading!

Reviews will be devoured ravenously by Buttercup and Butch for energy for their squabbling fest. FEED THEM!

I know, I'm weird. Don't bother to tell me.


	8. Chapter 7: Gotta Ticket to Ride

Wow! *is blown away by the pure awesomeness of reviewers* Thanks so much you guys!

Sorry this update is late again, but I went on yet another camping trip. Yay Disneyland/San Diego!

* * *

Resolutely, Bubbles bit the inside of her lip, turned and walked calmly away from her sisters.

_I will not cry. No, I will not. It's not like I'm never going to see them again…I'll see them soon. Right now, I'm going to go have a look at New York, dig up this horrible murderer, fight him, win, and throw him in jail. Exactly. Then, everyone will all get back together and celebrate. Maybe even the ruffs will turn out to not be so bad after all._

Bubbles continued her brave internal thoughts, willing herself not to cry in front of Agent Daves and Boomer. And besides, her inner monologue was correct, if all went as planned.

Ok, so maybe Bubbles knew it would take a little longer than she made it sound, and perhaps celebrating with Sherry and the agents was a little far fetched, and if memory served, the ruffs weren't the most pleasant people to spend time with, but other than that, there was no doubt in her mind that after a few weeks, she and her sisters would be together again.

The trio walked to the train station, where Daves abandoned them with a brief 'good luck.' Wordlessly, Boomer pulled out his train pass thingy-ma-hooey and gave her an expectant glance. Bubbles reached into her pocket and pulled out her own, before following the other blond through the turnstiles.

On the other side, and out of the swarms of people squeezing through, they paused, slipped their passes back into place, exchanged a glance, and swiftly glided through the crowds, finally stopping on a platform with a sign decreeing the next train was headed for New York.

Awkwardly, they faced each other, no longer having something to do to avoid contact.

"So…" murmured Boomer, switching his dark blue gaze from her face to the wall of the station and shoving his hands deep into his jean pockets, insecurity scrawled across his face.

Bubbles bit her lip and also glanced away, before returning her eyes to Boomer.

What was she supposed to do? Make small talk?

_So, Boomer, how have you been?_

_Long time, no see, eh?_

_Working for the CIA been fun?_

'_Sup?_

_Seriously, there has to be something I can say! Maybe we can talk about the murderer? Too many people around…gr, I hate situations like this!_

She shifted her weight to the other foot. He adjusted his pack. She watched a screaming child get dragged around by its tired mother. He pretended to be fascinated by piece of graffiti. Together they watched a train pull up on the other side of the station, heading south.

Bubbles swallowed, willing the train to please please get here and relive the tension. But, alas, the train didn't appear. Instead they continued to stand there, along with a couple dozen other people waiting on the platform.

The minutes ticked by. Bubbles's hands found their way behind her back, anxiously fidgeting and twiddling, and nervous habit of hers she had been trying to break. She yanked them away, instead grabbed the straps of her pack, letting out a small sigh of impatience and stress.

Finally, at long last, a faint screech echoed through the tunnel. Simultaneously, the Blues perked up and craned their heads around to try to see the oncoming train. Sure enough, after a couple seconds, the sound repeated, louder this time, and a pair of lights emerged out of the gloom, before the train followed. It braked and the doors creaked into their sockets, allowing Bubbles, Boomer, and everyone else who was waiting to cram in to mingle with the throng of people rushing to escape the loud hunk of metal.

With a clang, the doors slammed back together and the train jolted to life, moaning out of the station. Bubbles surveyed the seating as they clanked away. This compartment was packed, most people preferring to stand then to squeeze next to their fellow humanity, although a few individual seats were available.

Boomer caught her eye and shrugged, discreetly gesturing to the scattered empty chairs. Bubbles also shrugged and flicked her gaze to the poles. The blue ruff gave a slight nod, grabbing onto the sliver bar. Bubbles did the same, before the 'partners' again chose to avoid contact.

Clack clack clack clack clack clack…

The monotonous sound of the train bouncing on the rails at high speed consumed her mind and Bubbles retreated into inner dialogue once more.

_I wonder what Blossom and Buttercup are doing…_

A swift glance at her watch told her them time was 8:36.

_Well, Buttercup and Butch should be on their flight. Heh, I pity the rest of the people on the plane with them…I wonder who's dead yet…_

_What are Blossom and Brick doing? They have a long wait until their plane takes off, like, two and a half hours…at least they won't kill each other, they'll just glare, size each other up, and just be plain distrustful…_

_Speaking of those two, what did Sherry want with them when she dragged them aside? She gave them extra boxes, what could those be? Weapons, perhaps? Nah, that doesn't make sense. And Brick looked angrier…than usual. Hm, what was so special she couldn't say it in front of us?_

The train gave an extra lurch, which snapped Bubbles out of her thoughts. She readjusted her grip and flung a glance at Boomer, who was looking out the window at the tunnel wall speeding by.

* * *

Feeling eyes on him, Boomer turned to see Bubbles, who cocked her head slightly to the side, evenly returning his look, before sweeping her eyes out across the mob of smelly train people.

He returned to watching the brick wall rushing by in a blur of red. Brick wall. That made him think of Brick.

_Man, I hope Sherry didn't pull him aside to tell him to visit his 'family. He hates doing that, why do they keep sending him? We were already suspicious when they sent him and Blossom to Europe. I bet she did._

_Poor Brick, he's dreading it. Poor Blossom, never thought I'd say it, but I pity her. She'll probably go with him, heh, won't she have a blast. She's never even gotten her hands dirty, now she'll be thrown head-long with Brickster. Ah, well, I can't help that, not my choice._

_Besides, they are not the only ones with problems. Butch and Buttercup have a nice, twelve hour flight to tick them off, then they'll land in – wait, what country were they landing in? Whatever, they'll land and want to crash, but it will be daytime, so they'll have to stay awake to adjust to the time zone. All that equals two really short tempered and pissed of Greens ready to rip each others throats out. Lovely._

Boomer shook his head, grinning slightly at the vivid mental image of grumpy Butch and Buttercup, two lighted time bombs, waiting to set each other off.

_As a matter of fact, that was a really good way to describe them. Hm._

Just then, the train popped out of the dim tunnel and into the bright, cheery, and intrusive sunshine. Boomer blinked, eyes squinting in the suddenness of the change of light, startled by the appearance by trees.

_Well, look at that. We're already out of D.C._

* * *

I know, I know, this isn't a very long or exciting update, but I have to get everyone to their places before the crime fighting begins. Only one more chapter like this to go!

So. 19 days. 'Til I leave. *gulps*

Just warning you…

Reviews will be given bed and breakfast, free of charge! Yay!


	9. Chapter 8: Identity Crisis

Sorry, no valid excuse this time for the slow update other than the fact that I'm lazy. =P

Anywho, Chapter 10.

* * *

Blossom rolled her eyes at Butch's retreating back, deciding to take the mature course of ignoring his middle finger. Out of the corner of her eye, she could have sworn she saw Brick smirk, but when she swirled around to glare at him, he was observing the flight information board. Blossom arched an accusing eyebrow at his seemingly innocent back, but decided to also ignore him.

Without turning to face her, Brick started to walk away from the opposite direction that Buttercup and Butch had gone, throwing the number of their gate over his shoulder.

"B3."

Wordlessly, Blossom followed her counterpart through the crowds of people until they reached Gate B3. The pink puff threw a glance at her new watch, which informed her they still had almost three hours of waiting.

_Splendid. Exactly what I need, three hours of waiting in a crowded, smelly airport with Brick._

Sarcastic inner thoughts running through her head, Blossom cast a guarded look at her companion, who was rummaging through his bag. She watched him pull out the contact box. He looked up from his search, box in hand, giving her an expectant look before heading off to the nearby men's room. Blossom caught the hint and pulled out her own.

Inside the woman's restroom, she repeatedly stabbed herself in the right eye in an attempt to put it in, before finally having success. Pleased with herself, she glanced at the mirror to observe her new eye color.

_Hm, blue._

She put the other one, once again returning her azure gaze to the mirror.

She wasn't really pleased with the change. Even though her natural eye color was rather odd, Blossom liked it, not only because it was her favorite color, but because it set her apart from her sisters. Now her eyes were like Bubbles, just a little lighter in color. Blossom frowned, feeling like part of her identity had been stolen, replaced by her youngest sister.

_But it's all for the mission, I won't have to wear them forever._

Shoving the empty box into her bag for later, Blossom walked out and back to where she had left Brick. He was there, causally watching the hordes of people briskly walking through the airport. Neither acknowledged the other with a word or glance as she returned.

They slumped into a pair of empty seats in B3's waiting area. Suddenly stricken by curiosity out of nothing better to do, Blossom snuck a glance at Brick to see how he looked with blue eyes.

To her surprise, his contacts had changed his eyes to a dark chocolate brown, not light blue. She blinked, startled by the extreme change it had made to her counterpart's appearance. Without his blood red stare, he looked…less intimating. Minus his eerie eye shade, he looked far more human. And for some reason, Blossom didn't like the change on him either.

She paused, confused as to why she cared.

_I guess because it's just not Brick…I know his eyes are really red, like mine are really pink. Ah well, not my concern anyway._

Brick turned to look at her, cocking his head to the side slightly.

"Why are you staring at me?"

Blossom blinked again. She hadn't realized she had been staring the whole time she was thinking.

"I was looking at your contact color," she said smoothly, trying to cover up her mistake.

"Hm. They're different than yours. Probably to make our obvious physical similarities less noticeable," he replied, just as coolly.

Brick returned to observing the plane outside the window. Blossom chose to look the other way, at the bustling masses of people, bemoaning the fact she hadn't brought her book with her. She had figured their mission would start right away and finish quickly, and that there'd be no time for reading. Alas, she had been horribly wrong, and now she had nothing to do but twiddle her thumbs and ignore Brick.

About an hour later, Blossom's stomach reminded her that they hadn't eaten breakfast by growling. Loudly. Brick's dark hazel gaze switched back to her, the corners of his mouth twitching in a half formed smile. Blossom rolled her sky blue eyes.

"Forgot to eat," she mumbled.

"Hn, get something to eat now, plane food sucks, and I don't want you complaining the whole flight."

Blossom's temper flared at this self-important, bossy command, but years of practice allowed her to feel irked without a flicker of emotion touching her face. She was about to reply with an equally smart-ass comment, before a thought occurred to her which took precedent over a leadership squabble with Brick.

"I would, but what about money? Sherry didn't give us anything, so what do we do?"

Brick smirked, and once again, Blossom was thrown off by his eyes. They didn't look…right. They were brown. Brick was red, not brown. It was all wrong. But she brought her mind back to focus and the question on hand; mainly, why was Brick smirking at her question. It was a logical concern.

Brick leaned back into her seat, still smirking.

"How ironic, I'm going to have to be your teacher about fighting crime. This just takes the cake."

Blossom scowled.

"Stop gloating, and for your information, I know how to fight crime. What I don't know, is why you're so conceited and stuck up for no apparent reason."

Brick's smirk slide off his face, replaced by a hint of irritation.

"I beg to differ, you don't fight crime. You used to beat up random and brainless monsters, a gender-confused lobster-demon, a psycho monkey, a dysfunctional gang of green mutants, and a giant pink bear with antennae and a banjo. You don't fight crime the way we'll have to now."

"Don't forget the times we pulverized a trio of ignorant little boys created by said monkey and demon."

"Hn, I remember pulverizing you guys first."

"I remember winning."

"I remember I have the answer to your original question, before we got so off-topic."

"Fine. Answer."

Brick reached down to his pack, pulled out a wallet, and extracted an ordinary-looking card.

"The Budget," he murmured, holding the card discreetly enough that passer-bys wouldn't stare at it as Blossom was.

The puff arched an eyebrow in question, demanding a further explanation. Brick sighed slightly, before lowering his voice and leaning in.

"Our mission budget card accesses a stocked bank account. Each of my brothers have one, as do other all other CIA agents sent out on missions."

Blossom gave a slight nod of understanding, and Brick resumed his original position in his chair, still holding the card. Blossom kept her gaze trained on the piece of plastic.

"So, we're going to have to share that one."

"Look's like it. I thought Sherry would give you guys one, but she just told us to 'explain the details' or something. I guess she didn't have time to authorize three new cards."

"Well, can I have the card? To get food? Remember?"

Brick sighed again and got up, slinging his pack over his shoulder, still holding the card.

"I'd better come, can't have you losing this."

Again, her was messing with her temper, but she didn't show a trace of emotion, her face remained as stoic as his.

"I wouldn't lose it."

"Better to be safe than sorry."

"Do you think I'm incapable of keeping track of a single debit card?"

"Quite frankly, yes."

"That's rich, coming from you."

"This is your first mission, not mine."

"…"

"…"

"I hate you."

"I know. I don't care."

Blossom grit her teeth. Argh! No had ever gotten her as ticked as he had when they were little, and apparently he still had the knack. He didn't whine like Bubbles, or be plain rude and loud like Buttercup. He was calm and smooth and egotistical. It infuriated her to no end.

"This is going to be a nightmare, isn't it?" Blossom mumbled, just loud enough for Brick's sensitive ears to hear as they walked to food court.

"I agree, your company is quite unpleasant," he sniped back.

"The feeling is mutual."

They stopped next to a coffee shack, facing each other with acid stares of contempt.

_Brown. It's the wrong color._ _Gah! Why am I so distracted by his contacts?_

Indifferently, Brick broke the staring contest to stand in line, as if her opinion as of no consequence to him; as if she was no consequence to him. Blossom's hands balled into fists, but went to stand next to him all the same, not giving him the pleasure of visible anger.

After ordering a crossiant, Brick payed, and, without a glance at Blossom, began to stroll back to their seats in the waiting area. Blossom's teeth were clenched, hunger forgotten in her pent-up rage at Brick.

_That self-righteous, know-it-all, bossy, arrogant, stuck-up, indifferent ice cube!_

_But I have to control myself. If I let him see how riled up he makes me, I'll have no peace. Let him be childish and icy, see if I care. I'm not going to give him the satisfaction of knowing he pushes my buttons. Even if it drives me up the wall. It is the one small thing I can do to get revenge._

_Ugh, revenge is so immature; I shouldn't want to get back at him. I'm falling for his game. This is stupid._

_But, damn it! It works! He makes me so mad! I don't remember the last time I was so furious!_

_Calm down. Sooner, better, sooner, better. Just remember that. It'll be all over, we'll get the job done, and I can forget all about my counterpart._

_Sooner, better, sooner, better._

The words were strangely comforting, and by the time they reached their chairs again, she was completely calm and able to ignore him successfully. Serenely, Blossom ate her croissant, watching the minutes tick by on the clock next to their gate.

10:45.

_All most time for their flight. Once we're at a hotel, Brick can explain his 'family.' But I can wait. I'm in no rush to talk to the jerk._

* * *

Internally, Brick moaned. He had packed light, as usual, and now had to bear the consequence of no entertainment. The people around them were dull, ordinary, and provided no relief for his waiting.

He supposed he could try talking to Blossom, but for some reason, she had simply stopped rising to his challenges and looked quite unreadable, as usual. She was a closed book to him; he couldn't find emotion in her eyes, like her could with most people.

Especially now they were blue.

_Bleh, it looks weird on her. Like, Bubbles and Blossom accidently merged into one body. How odd. But, no, they aren't blue like Bubbles, they're…icy. Bubbles's blue is happy and ditzy. Blossom's blue is hard and unapproachable. Maybe that's just Blossom. Oh well._

Brick cleared his head of such thoughts, and continued to analyze the people around him.

A scruffy looking young man in his early twenties was reading a newspaper and drinking a cup of coffee. He had dark circles under his eyes, and looked like he was about to drop off any second.

_Probably a college student, leaving home from a weekend stay. The way he's sitting straight in his chair makes him look eager, probably a top student. Maybe he's losing sleep by studying for mid-terms in advance. Can't let himself fall asleep now though, doesn't have enough money to buy another plane ticket to get back to campus._

Next to the college student, an older woman was trying to hush a fussing baby. She looked frustrated and was continually shuffling through her purse and murmuring to her child.

_A mother obviously, might be switching planes here in D.C. Where could she be going? Visit relatives? Meet up with the child's father? Vacation? Probably not the last, who would go on a vacation with only a 8 month old baby as you're only company?_

Across from the hassled mother sat a stiff-looking man in a business suit, visibly displeased by the loud child. He had an expensive leather briefcase in the seat next to him and a small work laptop balanced on his legs. Brick's super-powered vision could tell the man was working on a PowerPoint for some sort of meeting.

_Going to Europe for a business meeting. Not a family guy; he'd have more pity for the mother. Doesn't look like the kind of guy whose going to have a life other than work. Too uptight, too wound up in money. Perhaps he hopes to get his boss's job in the future. A clever, unpleasant man._

In the seat next to the business man's briefcase, sat Blossom, crumpling the bag that had held her croissant.

Brick's eyes narrowed momentarily, brought back to the question of what went on in her head.

_Collected, powerful, and cold. Those are the only vibes I'm picking up from her. It irkes me how unreadable she is._

_Tch, Butch would say she's like me. Duh, Butch, we're counterparts. Great, I'm talking to my brother, who isn't even here. I really am bored._

10:57 read his watch.

_We'll board soon. Should I mention that to Blossom? Nah, she's looking at the clock now too._

Brick stretched in his seat, tired of observing the people around him, and almost comfortable enough to drop off right here in the waiting area. Lazily, he watched Blossom get up and throw her trash away before returning to her seat next to him, as always, her expressions carefully guarded to give away none of her thoughts.

_Whatever. Like anything in her head would be of interest. It's just frustrating that she's so cold._

Finally, hallelujah, the stewardess announced that their flight was boarding. Simultaneously, the Reds stood up from their seats, without exchanging a glance went to the back of the line.

Once situated in their seats, the flight attendants began their lengthy ramble on safety, flotation devices, and the like.

Brick zoned out, having heard this speech countless times. Hack, he could probably deliver it himself.

"…in case of emergency, the seat cushions can be used as a flotation device…"

Just because he could, Brick mouthed the words along with the flight attendant

"…please take notice of the exit doors nearest you…"

Blah blah blah.

Brick already knew, could they just start the flight please?

"Enjoy your flight!" finished the ditzy stewardess with a bright smile before walking down the aisle and out of sight.

Brick pulled out the complementary ear buds and plugged into the side of his chair, trying to lose himself in the cheesy music provided.

_Now to wait some more. What a drag._

But Brick could be patient, or at least put up a front.

_No way to speed up the plane. The flight will take as long as the flight will take._

Brick closed his eyes, ignored the pink puff beside him, and settled into his chair.

Hours later, Brick started awake, blinking as he realized he had drifted asleep. The lights were dimmed and most of the other occupants in the plane were also asleep. The quiet hum of the plane's engines filled his ears.

Out of the corner of his eye, he checked up on Blossom. Her head was leaning against the window, but the reflection of her blue eyes confirmed his suspicion that she was awake.

_Blue…_

His still slightly groggy mind focused on the reflection of her blue orbs, which were looking out at the night sky above.

_Her eyes shouldn't be blue…I don't like it. No offense Boomer…and Bubbles._

_Her eyes look dead when they're blue. She's not really Blossom._

The image of her eyes on the window shifted from gazing upwards to looking directly at him. Brick blinked realizing he had been caught.

Still looking at him by way of the window's reflection, she quietly spoke.

"Why are you staring at me?"

"I don't know," he mumbled, remembering how he had spoken those exact words to her earlier, "Your eyes…"

He trailed off, feeling lame.

She raised an eyebrow coolly.

"I know," she murmured, "Not quite right, is it?"

Without waiting for a response, she once again looked up to the sky. Brick rolled over to his other side and fought to go back to sleep.

* * *

Hmph, I think a teeny Brick and Blossom moment snuck in there…ah well, they're my favorite PPG/RRB pairing.

I know I made a big deal about the contacts, but, being a contact-wearer myself (not the colored kind though), it kinda bugs me how people totally blow it off if and when they use them in their own stories.

All while I was writing this, I was listening to songs by the band RED. Lol, how funny. Next chapter, I'll listen to Green Day, then…does anyone know of a decent band that's name has the word 'blue' in it?

If you do, you'll have to review to tell me =P


	10. Chapter 9: Grumpy Greens

Yup yup, here's the next chapter.

I got a request for this Green chapter, but I wasn't quite able to understand it. Something Buttercup going to the bathroom and Butch's mask falling in his mouth? Sorry, I wasn't sure what to do.

So, that aside, here's Chapter 11.

Buttercup squinted through her eyelids at the back of the chair in front of her. Groggily, she noted three things.

Her neck was really sore.

Her hand and wrist were aching.

Something warm was on the top of her head.

Neck creaking in protest, Buttercup pulled check off of her palm, and mass of black spikes accordingly fell off her head. Buttercup blinked in shock, ripping her face away from such a close proximity with the foreign object.

Once she was a foot away from the black spikes, Buttercup scowled at Butch's head. The jerk was still fast asleep and had apparently been using the top of her head as a pillow.

_Oh, he's going to pay for this._

As punishment, Buttercup gave him a light (not really) tap (smack) on his cheek which didn't (did too) leave a bright red handprint on his face. Butch awoke with a start, hand flying to his newly acquired injury before he threw Buttercup an irritated and sleepy glare.

"What was that for?" he groaned.

"For sleeping on me."

Butch looked confused, obviously not fully awake.

"Eh?"

Buttercup sighed.

"Never mind, just know you deserved it."

Butch scowled, but the angry effect was ruined by him yawning wide enough that Buttercup would have thought he broke his jaw.

"You're mean," he mumbled thickly, before settling back into his chair to try to fall asleep again.

Buttercup stuck her tongue out at him before checking the time on her watch.

1:48. P.M.

_Hm, I wonder if that's the time back in D.C. or if it's where the plane is now…where are we now?_

Buttercup knew looking out the window wasn't going to help determine their position, besides, she didn't want to climb all over Butch.

_Ah well, we're probably almost there. Hopefully._

A quiet, snuffling snore emanated from the slumbering Butch beside her. Buttercup rolled her eyes, and gave his curled up, sleeping form a gentle (rough) push (shove.) He flapped his arm around his back, trying to swat her hand away.

"Leave meeeee aloooneee…" he groaned.

"Tch, baby."

"I just want to sleep; don't be such a bitch all the time."

"…that's it, you asked for it."

Butch rolled his sleepy head over to see what he'd asked for – just in time to receive a reasonable punishment for his crimes (a whopper of a punch in the nose.)

"Ungh!" he grunted, hands once again flying to his injured face, glowering at the seething Buttercup.

"Dude! Seriously, what's your problem?" he hissed in pain, closing one angry green eye in frustration as he observed his fuming counterpart.

"**You're** my problem."

"Excuse me, can I help you?" a cold, unhappy voice sliced their conversation neatly in half.

Startled, Buttercup whipped her head around her shoulder to see an angry stewardess. Behind her, the row across the way was glaring at them.

"Erm, no, we're fine," said Buttercup in a hushed voice, realizing just now how loud they had been talking/punishing (punching.)

"Yeah," said Butch, his voice muffled by his hands which were smothered across his wounded nose.

"I see," said the cross flight attendant.

The row across the way rolled their eyes before snuggling back into their chairs, loudly whispering about the rudeness and inconsideration of young people these days.

"We'll be arriving in Japan in two hours," said the stewardess before stalking away to wherever stewardesses exist when not serving your every need.

Buttercup whipped around again to glare at Butch, who was still covering his face with his hands.

"Shut up!" she hissed, although much more quietly than she had been talking before.

"Oh yeah? You're the one who woke me up by slapping me, then you shoved me when I wasn't doing anything, and then you punched me in the face!"

"You were sleeping on top of me, then you were snoring, and then you called me a bitch!"

"You started it!"

"You deserved it!"

"Argh! You're impossible! I'm going to sleep!"

With that, Butch rolled over in a huddled ball to face the window. Buttercup huffed and faced the opposite way, furious scowl etched across her face even as she drifted back to sleep.

"Un?" questioned Buttercup through closed eyelids.

"Wake up, Snoring Beauty," whispered a soft, yet sarcastic, voice in her ear.

Buttercup blinked, turned her head, and promptly found Butch's face far too close to her own. She jerked away, and he leant out of her personal bubble, smirking.

"We're about ready to land."

Yet again, he had made her scowl.

"Don't ever get that close to me again if you value your life!"

"Hm, is that supposed to be threatening?"

"Hm, is that supposed to be funny?"

"Hm, is that supposed to be a comeback?"

Buttercup grit her teeth and contented herself with rolling her eyes at the jerk, who's smirk widened. The green puff chose to ignore this irritating fact.

Rubbing her eyes, she straightened in her chair, back aching from spending a fitful night in a mostly sitting position. Her mouth had the distasteful feeling of not being brushed, and her hair was ruffled in a awful bed-head that only a shower would cure.

_Just get me off this horrible flying torture machine. And away form Butch. I promise I'll never ask for anything more._

"_Please, fasten your seat belts__," _said an overly cheery voice.

Buttercup's scowl darkened. Bleh, it was too early to be cheery. And Butch was next to her

Butch + morning + cheery voices = pissed Buttercup.

Watch out Japan. If Buttercup ain't happy, then nobody gonna be happy.

Butch ran a hand through his spiky hair, waiting for the sharp jolt which would announce their arrival on ground. As expected, the bounce arrived, and Butch undid his seat belt, ignoring the glowing sign demanding he keep the metal clasped together. Psh, nothing ever happened after touch down. Butch had never been one to favor over-cautiousness, and he wasn't about to start now, no matter the dirty glares he received from stewardesses.

Once outside the crowd of people squeezing out of the plane, Butch stopped to recover sight of Buttercup, who had miraculously been able to stay with him. People running off planes are so pushy.

_3:45 P.M._

_Oh God. Time zones_

_*Sobs* I just want to sleep in a horizontal position, I'm exhausted, Buttercup doesn't give a guy anytime to get rest._

A swift glance at his counterpart confirmed that she too looked like a sleep-deprived zombie, freshly dug out of the grave.

_Yup, neither of us are morning people. Er, I guess it's afternoon now…_

"Let's go," he mumbled leading the way through the airport.

Buttercup gave him a dark look for being bossy, but didn't complain, for once.

_How odd. She'd usually be all over me for taking control. She's more tired than I thought. Or perhaps she just doesn't know what to do. This is her first time in Tokyo, right?_

Once they were out on the streets, he didn't have to ask that question. Her looks of wonder at the city skyline confirmed her rookie-ness to Japan. Tired light green eyes were dragging themselves all over the sights as they took a taxi to a hotel.

"Whoa…" he heard her murmur faintly.

Butch smirked and turned his gaze out the window as well, amused by her blatant admiration of this new city. The charm of Tokyo had long since worn off on Butch; too many memories of missions lingered here.

Confidently, he strolled up to the registration desk. He had been to this particular hotel several times, and he could truthfully say he was well-acquainted with the building's ventilation pipes, at least more so than he would care to be. Damn smoke bombs. Make life so difficult when you're trying to escape an enemy squad.

"One room, or two?" asked the small woman behind the desk, glaring pointedly at the Greens through her tiny glasses, one eyebrow perked in a curious question.

"Definitely two," snapped Buttercup. Butch's eyes widened at the horror of what the woman was suggesting, but refrained from saying something

"I see," grumbled the lady, seemingly disappointed.

Butch's upper lip curled slightly at the woman's interest in the matter.

_Ick, now I'll have nightmares._

The lady handed them their keys and the Greens took the elevator up to the third floor, refusing to make eye contact. Wordlessly, they went into their respective rooms. With a sigh, Butch hurled his bag onto one of the queens, and flopped onto the one closest to him.

After a few minutes of simply lying there, face down in the bed, he rolled over to stare at the ceiling, arms spread out across the surface of the mattress. Finally, he got up, kicked his shoes off and walked barefoot to the bathroom to take a shower and brush his teeth.

_I hope Buttercup has the sense not to go to sleep again. I already woke her up once, and I'm not inclined to do so again._

Muscles still aching from his long, cramped, and uncomfortable trip, Butch walked out of his room and across the hall to Buttercup's door, running a hand through his damp hair, trying to shake the moisture out. He knocked. When she didn't answer immediately, he folded his arms impatiently. A minute passed. Butch rolled his eyes up to the ceiling.

"Man, this chick is so annoying," he said under his breath.

Driven by frustration, he pounded loudly on the piece of wood which was obstructed him. Obviously, he could have broken down the door with one hand, but he was under cover and couldn't drag attention to himself and Buttercup, so he had to stand in the hallway, looking like an idiot until she cared to open the door.

He grit his teeth, straining to hear the annoying female on the other side. He knocked again. Finally, his super-powered ears heard the pad of feet on carpet approaching the door. The lock on the inside slid open and was greeted by a scowling, wet haired Buttercup.

"Yes?" she hissed.

Butch shrugged.

"Just making sure you weren't going to sleep."

"No, I'm not asleep."

"Well, don't go to sleep."

"I know. I'm not an idiot."

"Well, that's news."

"Is it, pea-brain?"

With that final comment, she slammed the door in his face. Butch let out a hiss of annoyance, but walked back to his room to order room service, watch T.V., and waste time in general until he would allow himself to pass out on a bed.

Yay for the Greens! Their dialogue is probably one of the highlights of writing this story.

The Reds are my favorite, but in the beginning, they have to be so cold and distant. The Blues are cute, but they have to be distrustful and cautious. But, yay, the Greens get to be abusive and sarcastic! Such a relief…

Anywho, thanks for all your awesome blue bands! You guys are the best! *gives thumbs up and huge, shiny grin*


	11. Chapter 10: They all do

_Heh heh heh_

_My, my, they have been slow, haven't they? One would think that a government would have taken more drastic measures sooner, hm? Or at least, one would hope. Honestly, these buffoons who proclaim themselves leaders make it too easy…_

_Too bad for them. They don't know. They think these "super-powered" agents are really something, eh? They don't understand; they can't comprehend._

_They're sending lambs to the slaughter._

_They've witnessed it before. They should know. That woman – what was her name? – ah, yes, Sherry. You poor fool. You poor, innocent, oblivious fool. You have no idea what kind of torture you're sending these children into._

* * *

_What's this? My word, I miscalculated. They are stronger than the rest. But that's not saying much. The armies they sent after me, ha, what a joke. The most they did was amuse me before they laid down and died. Pathetic, really._

_Humans are so arrogant; they think they are top dog. They think they can overcome any obstacle, if they set their minds to it. Wrong. I'll prove it to them. Even though these "super children" have the abilities of stronger beings, they are human at heart. They'll fall prey to the same weakness everyone else did._

_Now that I've investigated, I understand. I underestimated them. But not by much. It is of no consequence. It makes no difference to me. They'll die, super heroes or not._

_They all do._

* * *

Now, I now what you're all thinking. "Wait, what? What happened to the Blue chapter?" Well, I had to fit in this snippet to get some action going. Don't worry, I'll get the Blue chapter out soon.

F.Y.I. – I leave in 7 days. O.o


	12. Chapter 11: Look tough, Crybaby

Hey there y'all! =D

Anyone remember me? Vaguely? Sorta?

Well, if you do, and you were some of my original readers: I missed you all so much! Thanks for your awesome support and thanks for coming back!

For new readers: Welcome, and thanks for checking out my humble little story! :)

Okay, it has been a long time…even longer than I had planned…sorry guys, my bad. But my almost month long delay since I've been back is due to a long list of reasons:

Jet lag sucks. A lot. Anyone who has ever made a Paris-SFO flight will understand.

Friends and Family have been fighting to spend endless amounts of time with me to make up for the six months :P

For the next six months, the French girl I'd been living with is going to be here with me now for six months and I'm busy teaching her English, a fun, but exhausting job.

I literally _just_ got back from a week long excursion up to Ashland, Oregon.

I've been…emotionally suffering from a difficult and sticky break-up with a French guy…who I really miss, even I haven't spoken to him since we spilt (a couple days before I came home)…so, yeah, that kinda hurts still, but at least I'm not crying anymore…usually :(

Anywho, those are my reasons for being so late…sorry again, and hope this chappie meets your expectations! =P

* * *

With the brakes making a worrying screeching noise, the train lurched to a stop and a rush of people threw themselves at the squeaky doors, as frantic to leave the train as if a fire alarm was ringing and black smoke was pouring into the car. Boomer gave her a fleeting hurry-up-and-follow-me-look before joining the throng of people evacuating. Bubbles leapt to her feet and wriggled her way after him, terrified at the thought of losing her only guide.

Bubbles grunted slightly in surprise as the wind was momentarily knocked out of her by a man who roughly shoved into the side of the train car to get past. He didn't even offer an apologetic glance or word; he just continued to move on. Bubbles however shot an irritated glare at the back of his retreating head before forcing her way onto the station floor. She paused in mid-step, her large blue eyes scanning the crowded area, looking for Boomer's blue hoodie.

"I'm here," murmured a quiet, but distinct voice from behind her. Bubbles turned on her heel and found the other teenager.

"Let's go," he said, insecurity hidden behind his soft tone and the rarity of eye contact initiated on his part.

_At least I'm not the only unsure about this situation. Maybe he is just as confused and stressed as I am. That would make sense, we did kick their butts pretty badly before…_

Bubbles gave him one nod, and Boomer broke off the awkward, non-existent conversation and led the way up the stairs, onto the streets. Although bubbles was more of a nature girl, she couldn't help but admit that the skyscrapers of downtown New York were magnificent. They towered above her head, massive constructions of glass, casting shadows pointing westward in the early morning sun. Bubbles observed them with a visible trace of admiration as she trotted after Boomer, who seemed to know exactly where he was supposed to be taking them.

Bubbles' breath came out as little spurts of fog, and the tip of her nose and ears were beginning to tingle already from the frostiness of this sharp October morning. She zipped up her jacket in an attempt to insulate herself from the pricking coldness, continuing as always to keep one step behind her counterpart. After about three blocks of marching, Bubbles took an extra skipping step to catch up to him and, huffing from the exercise in the cold. She paused for a moment, falling slightly behind again, hesitant to break the silence between them. But, after a brief consideration She hopped back up to his side and puffed her question out before she could change her mind again, hoping he would read the pink dusting on her cheeks as a reaction to the cold.

"Um, Boomer, where exactly are we going?" He glanced at her, an unreadable, guarded expression on his face. He might have been able to hide what he was really thinking from her, but he couldn't hide that he was hiding something.

_Honestly, how does someone ever get to be one of the country's most elite spies if he doesn't have a decent poker face?_

He slowed his pace and turned sideways.

"Well, standard procedure is to get checked into a hotel. After that, well, um, maybe we could go take a look around the city. We still got most of the day in front of us, so perhaps we can get several of the usual information-bugs questioned before night? I don't know – if that's okay with you – I guess, er, I mean, you okay with that?" His voice stayed rather muted, for privacy sake's, but I could easily hear the stutter in his words as he struggled with his sentences.

_Honestly, I bet he can't be smooth if his life depended on it! How can it be that someone so obviously not intimidating makes me so nervous? I should stop blowing this situation out of proportion; maybe that will relax us both. I wonder, if we didn't have all of the hostility between our siblings, could it be easier to be around Boomer? He doesn't look very angry at me…only cautious. Diplomatic. Wary. I'll try to be careful too, than it'll be a lot simpler to get on with this mission, which is complicated enough without all this added side pressure!_

"Okay, yeah, sure, that sounds fine to me, Boomer. You call the shots, I don't know how to go about this…um, yeah…" I kept my voice low, but not too secretive, as he did, not to draw too much attention.

_There's an awesome start to your future tactful responses…__not__. Come on Bubbles, focus! No reason to make a fool out of yourself for nothing!_

"Okay."

_Maybe I should use one word answers too, there are a lot simpler…but that would make it look like I don't want to talk to him, like I don't want him to know what I'm thinking…_

He went back to his brisk pace, but this time Bubbles speed up her pace to be next to him as the traversed a few more blocks until they got to a four star hotel. Boomer gave her a fleeting glance, as if about to ask her opinion, before he quickly shrugged the look off and brushed through the double doors.

Bubbles winced internally at their new, bi-polared relationship, which was already kicking off to a bizarre start. _Oh man, I hope things aren't going to be this weird the entire time…_

The pair got two rooms on the second floor and promptly dropped off their backpacks, meeting back in the hallway.

Boomer's unease – or whatever was making him so uncomfortable and strange –flickered in and out of his eyes for a split second, before he gave her a jerk of the head to wordlessly indicate for her to follow, before leading the way back down to the street.

This time, he hailed one of New York's famous yellow taxis and directed him the warehouses on the cargo docks.

_A little cliché…gang rendezvous in an abandoned warehouse. I guess stereotypes have some truth after all._

But to her surprise, the dock they were dropped off at as far from abandoned. The strip of land between shore and sea was surging with life, shouts of men, hollering orders as they unloaded a newly-arrived, colossal fright carrier. Boxes that could fit a dozen people quite comfortably were being lowered by a crane, while the cargo ship's crew and what she guessed was the homeland security buzzed around, doing their inventory and inspecting jobs.

Bubbles threw a sideways glance at Boomer who was already waiting for her. She mentally scolded herself for gawking at the boat and gave him her attention. Although his body was turned towards her, as if in conversation, his gaze wasn't meeting her eyes.

"Um, we're going to have to walk a few blocks that way," he pointed north-west-ish, "We can't take a taxi directly to it…"

"Why not?" Bubbles curiosity sprang out before she could clench it and give him a nod or short sentence to lead the way.

_Ugh, I'm soooo bad at this whole spy operation!_ _I should have just given the go-ahead_ _instead of sounding like a tourist…_

He shrugged, still never making direct eye contact.

"Security reasons. Neither we nor they want the taxis to be able to identify where we are going if questioned."

"Oh. Okay."

_Now if that didn't sound like a little child who'd just been lectured, I don't know what does. Why does it all have to be so…bizarre between us?_

Boomer (yet again) led the way, out of the chaos of the docks. The pair silently wound their ways through some of the shadier looking apartment buildings of the city, until Boomer stopped in ten feet next to a concrete block of housing, no more noticeable than any of the identical ones around it. The blue ruff turned to her, his eyes actually connecting with hers for a second.

"Okay, er – don't panic, but stick with me, don't speak if you don't have to, and above all, don't look intimidated. Act like you would be completely willing to shred anyone's worthless hides and you'll be fine, I promise."

Bubbles felt her eyes get a little wider in shock but quickly blinked and nodded.

_Well, that didn't sound very reassuring…what's in there? Gee it does look like kind of a horrible place…don't panic, I have super-powers, I have Boomer. I just gotta act tough, that's all…_

Boomer took one step, and then jerked his head back around.

"Oh yeah, and don't mention the powers or the puff-ness or anything. The source knows, but we can't let any of these other guys find out, okay?"

Bubbles gave another wide-eyed nod, hoping she didn't look as worried as she felt.

_What if I slip up and ruin everything? What I destroy everything Boomer and his brothers have been working for? They've been trying for years to get this job, this status and what if my big mouth and nerves go and dash any hope for their future? This is too much pressure, I don't know if I can – _

But, before Bubbles could even think about what she could and couldn't do, Boomer had passed through the graffiti door and Bubbles had to follow him.

_Look tough, look tough…don't forget, you have super-powers, but you can't act like it, oh my goodness, look tough, look tough!_

_

* * *

_

Boomer pushed past the loose door with ease and started down the hallway, not letting hesitating to wait for Bubbles, afraid she would change her mind and chicken out. Her fear had only been too obvious in the streets, and he didn't want her to get cold feet two inches inside. He sped-walked down the filthy hallway with an frigid glare to any hung-over junkie lounging on the floor. No one gave them any trouble. Boomer glanced out of the corner of his eye to see Bubbles right on his tail, mouth set in a fierce line, but the depths of her baby blue eyes were frightened.

_Honestly, you'd think a puff would have a little more backbone. Maybe it had been her sisters all along being the scary ones, maybe I had never noticed before…Well, she'd better suck it up now because there is no room for allowance on this case. As long as she doesn't cry, dear lord, anything but crying…_

Boomer shrugged off the idea with haste and led the way up several flights of stairs, Bubbles still following him. No mater how much of a reputation for being a crybaby, Boomer trusted the fifteen-year-old could hold herself together enough not to break down in tears. She'd faced criminals before, and she had him to do the talking.

_I'm such a worry-wart. I used to get called a crybaby too when I was five…hell, we're counterparts, I'm a frickin' spy, and she's used to being the good guy who always wins the day. We'll make a bad-ass team, once we get over this I-have-no-clue-what-to-say spell. Got to trust that. Even if we suck at being coworkers, there's no doubt we can utterly destroy anyone who gets in our way. Positive, Boomer, think positive. Sherry has some sense in that screwed-up head of her; there's a logical reason why we are on a team together._

Boomer turned of on the fourth floor and continued down the stained carpet, which looked as grimy and disgusting on every other floor. Boomer had his eyes already set on one of the far doors, so he didn't pay much attention to a weird-looking, unshaven man wearing a stained white tank top and busted-up jeans leaning in an apartment doorway, half-empty beer in hand, eyes completely blood-shot. This low-life specimen gave the pair a stained-tooth grin that could only be described as demented. Thanks to super-powered hearing and the fact Bubbles was still following him like a lost puppy, he could hear her take in the faintest breath of air

_Wow, she really does rely a lot on her sisters to be the intimidating ones. I guess that's okay, she still brings a good fight._

Boomer's thoughts wandered briefly to a scar he had on his side from one of their childhood brawls, but he continued briskly down the hallway, not giving a chance for Bubbles to slow down.

He stopped three doors away from the end of the row on the left side, and knocked a few times on the pale, washed-out wood that severed as a door. The barrier opened the crack, but whoever was still barring their entrance remained silent. As instructed, Boomer waited for three seconds before murmuring into the crack.

"Can I speak with Andrea?"

Another three seconds.

"You can, but not here," rasped a soft, broken voice.

Boomer waited the allotted three seconds.

"She left?"

He let the third period of time pass, before answering the final code.

"Fuck, sorry to hear that."

Three more seconds passed before finally the door opened and Boomer slipped in, counting that Bubbles would follow. Behind the door was a trashed, run-down apartment, which barley had enough room for a cot, an ancient T.V. on the floor, and a small beer fridge. The entire place reeked of week old Thai food and unwashed sheets. In this picture of poverty, stood a thin, wiry man with shaggy, unkempt hair which fell into his eyes. He wore battered boxers and a faded T-shirt which said "Honker's Bar, est. 1947" His hands were large and strong looking, but there were no other remarkable features about this man. His physical appearance fit in easily with his living quarters and neighbors.

A quick visual scan confirmed the place wasn't bugged. On walls this barren, the marks would be as obvious to him as a firework show on the fourth of July. Boomer waited until Bubbles was at his side and the door was closed before speaking, again in a low voice.

"We've got serious problems across Europe and Asia. Serial killing. Cause of death – fear. Recently, we've had a first attack on American soil. No government has any clue to even how the murderer is doing it and we can only guess our problems are growing worse by the hour."

The thin man stared at them intensely, dark circles under his eyes giving an insomniac look to his already haggard face.

"This is the first I've heard of this. And I certainly have no clue how one could kill with fear," he rasped in his scruffy voice, as if it was drying up from fatigue or misuse.

Boomer locked the man in a meaningful look before he gave a curt nod.

"Very well. Stay on the lookout."

"I always do."

Boomer abruptly blinked and turned for the door, opening it for Bubbles to leave first, before closing it behind him without a backwards glance at the miserable-looking source, as people such as him were nicknamed in this profession.

_Well, he's not the only one who has no idea. Who, or what, the hell are we looking for?_

_

* * *

_

Okay, there's my chappie, thanks for reading, and I hope it pleases you guys enough ^^ I certainly had a blast writing! Ah, so good to finally be back on track!

As always, the blues are difficult to write for, at least for me, but for once, I had some action for them, and I think I kept them in character enough.

Music Stuff (If you're interested): So, if anyone remembers, I was going to try to look for a 'blue' band to listen to. You guys gave me some suggestions (Thanks guys!:D) but I just wasn't able to concentrate on writing with them…so I listened mostly to Bruno Mars, Cascada, and Basshunter. I don't know why, but dance music really isn't distracting to me and actually helps me go faster. :P

One last note, which actually is kinda important: I have always struggled with chapter length and the pressure to write quickly, so I've been thinking about setting deadlines for myself in the week. I was thinking about saying I'll update every Sunday and Thursday, but nothing is set in stone yet.

I don't know, but please review and let me know what you think, and if this sounds reasonable to help me get long chapters out to you quickly and regularly.

Also, review on the story please; I love it when you do!

Peace out! :D


	13. Chapter 12: What the ?

'Sup, guys? :)

I meant to upload this soooooo long ago, but the weeks vanished before my eyes while I continued to struggle and labor over this chapter! There were at least three entirely different ways this chappie could have taken, and give or take a few paragraphs and this story's final outcome might have run down a completely different path than I had intended. Sum it up in a nutshell: this chapter was pivotal turning point for me. :)

Thanks for all the awesome reviews; they made my day! :D You guys rock!

* * *

The digital clock's electronic trill filled Blossom's awareness with piercing discomfort. Her head jerked suddenly on her pillow, her eyelids flew open only to sag half-way closed again, and a disgruntled moan escaped from her. Thickly, she reached over to the annoying hotel room's alarm clock, fumbling for a second before she found the unreasonably small switch that silenced the hideous noise, which was unfortunately becoming a well known screech to the pink puff. For the last two days, the Reds had been out dawn until far after dusk in the city of Berlin and the surrounding countryside, searching discreetly for clues, tips, news, rumors, small talk, hints, or even the faintest indication a rampaging murderer was roaming anywhere near here by passing off as two young American college students, conducting a survey, the subject of which varied by the nature of questions they needed to ask each individual/group. Despite their hard work and the cooperation of the majority of questionees, the Reds had found nothing. And, to add the salt of stress to the wound of disappointment, the small team was feeling the tension between two ex-arch-enemy, strong willed leaders used to getting their own ways. So far, each had managed to simply express their distaste for the other with the cold shoulder when possible, icy words and glares when not.

Swiftly, she threw the covers off her legs and slipped into the small bathroom. The red-head couldn't allow herself any lounging time to habituate herself to the reality of morning. She could imagine exactly how Brick's irritated face would frown disapprovingly down at her if she was late.

_Not happening, Brick. Keep dreaming, but you won't be able to pinpoint a single flaw. I'll make sure of it._

Not bothering to lock the bathroom door, she took one of the world's record for shortest bathroom experiences. She dressed, threw her dirty clothes and bathroom supplies back into her bag and gave the room a quick check over. Finding that she had left no personal items, she slung her bag over her back and left without a second thought. But when her fingers reached out for the elevator down button, a rare event occurred for the strong minded puff. She hesitated. Her fingers flinched in indecision.

If she arrived ten minutes early to the 7:30 rendezvous Brick had set last evening, and somehow he noticed, would she look like she was being too eager to please? Brick would raise a single eyebrow mockingly, gazing at her with a superior regard, conveying his amusement at her childlike endeavor to beat him at his own game.

_But by allowing how he will judge me effect what I do and think, doesn't that mean I already lost?_

Frustrated with self-doubt and her own attempts to impress Brick (or just silence his unspoken criticism), Blossom internally snarled and pushed the button harder than she had meant to.

_I'll just get some breakfast in the meantime. They had fruit and power bars for sale at the lobby._

After a delay of seconds, in which Blossom already had the time to start to berate herself for being so foolish, the metal doors slid gracefully open, revealing two middle-aged, slightly overweight women. Blossom gave them a polite acknowledgment, mumbling a quiet "gutentag." She shuffled her bag awkwardly to her shoulder and tried to appear like a very normal young woman traveling alone in Germany.

The shorter of the two gave her a brief glance and dip of the head. The other gave her a longer look and a friendly half-smile. No one spoke for the short ride down to the lobby.

The doors slide open and the two women resumed their conversation a few steps out of the doorway. Even without super-powered hearing, Blossom could clearly hear them. She realized they were southern Americans. Not too uncommon of a find in a hotel just outside Berlin, one of the biggest tourist cities in the world and the capital of historic Germany.

"I just don't understand, this sudden change o' heart, that's all. Why do ya want to leave Berlin already? We just got here yesterday mornin' for Pete's sake," grumbled the taller one.

"I just think we should, ya know? Come on, it'd be fun to shake it up a bit. Why stick to plans when we could scurry across Europe willy-nilly? It's so boring to have everythin' all planned out already. Don't be a stick in the mud, Hilary. After a good breakfast, you'll feel better and we can pack up and hit that road."

Hilary gave her companion a hard stare, a mixture of concern and frustration. She paused a second before replying.

"Ya ain't makin' much sense, ya sure ya okay?..." she mumbled quietly. As they distanced themselves from Blossom, she tuned them out. Although if she had tried, she could have quite easily continued to eavesdrop on them, but she didn't consider it of great importance. Besides, people should have a right to their own privacy.

Instead she turned towards the front desk and, looking over the head of the lady managing the counter, began visually browsing through the boxes of power bars stacked on a shelf.

She had not considered herself well studied in German, (only having memorized a few books on simple grammatical rules and common vocabulary words) so she was pleased when she had arrived n Germany able to decipher most written sentences and pick up on the general meaning of the locals. Brick wasn't much better in German either, but together they had managed to struggle past the language barrier without too much difficulty. Their American accents and mistakes also added to believability of their student act.

After a half a minute of reflection, she chose a bar which declared itself to be 100% organic granola with raspberry chunks, along with a small water bottle. She charged it to her room, ultimately Brick's little agent card.

The red head seated herself in one of the lobby's waiting chairs and daintily ate her breakfast. She had just screwed the cap on her half empty bottle when from her vantage point, she saw Brick exit the elevator.

Involuntarily, her fake blue gaze hardened, her eyebrows drew slightly together. His presence always annoyed and stressed her, both inhibiting her from fully concentrating and competitively driving her to greater focus. Out of the corner of her eye, she observed his approach, futilely and silently wishing him away.

As usual, Brick walked with a confident swagger bordering on egotistical. His hands were shoved deep into his jean pockets, he surveyed his surroundings with a relaxed, but alert gaze, and his mouth was formed in an easy, unworried, and neutral position. With a turn of his head, he swept the room and located her. Nonchalantly, he redirected himself towards Blossom, coming to a halt a foot in front of her chair.

"Ready to go, Babe?"

Blossom upper lip curled.

"Don't call me Babe."

The response was almost automatic by now. For some reason unknown to her, Brick seemed unable to drop the stupid pet names. Between 'Pinky', 'Babe', 'Sweets' and, her least favorite, 'Blossy', Blossom was about ready to rip his throat out.

Blossom had noticed that ever since Him had revived the boys, Brick seemed dead set on not using her real name… weird side effects of being – whatever the hell Him had done.

But, this was no time to take a stroll down memory lane. They were on the move, and as always, she had to keep a clear head to keep up with her counterpart. Today they were leaving Germany and were going to make a hop down to Italy, stopping by a few large cities on the way. She had to keep a sharp eye out for anything abnormal during their drive.

After checking out of the hotel, Brick maneuvered skillfully through the morning traffic in this outskirt town, until he reached the autobahn. More than the majority of the cars were on the other side, barely putting towards Berlin. The Reds were headed south, away from commuters, and could take advantage of Germany's famous lack of speed limits. Brick was nearing 190 miles an hour, flying along the black tar, with the poise, ease and ability of an experienced driver which didn't go along with the profile of qualities for an average fifteen year old American teenager. But, then again, no one had ever claimed Brick was a normal adolescent. Or even a normal _anything_ for that matter...

Blossom relaxed into the passenger seat of the white sport's car that had been mysteriously waiting for them in the parking lot of the airport. Brick had pulled out the keys from his carry on luggage, given her an eyebrow wiggle and a small smirk, before sliding into driver's seat. She had rolled her eyes at his cockiness, but hadn't found a comeback sharp enough to satisfactorily top that, so she had remained silent.

After a few minutes of high speed driving, Brick tossed her a brief glance.

"We probably aren't going to make the drive in one day, but we'll get as far as we can. Sometime or other we'll stop for lunch. Keep a look out."

Blossom's mouth turned down into a tiny frown at his bossiness, but as she had for the last several days, she didn't argue, knowing that she was unqualified to take control of the situation. But that didn't mean that it didn't irk her. And he knew that.

She gave him a curt nod and turned her attention to her window, leaving her partner to keep track of his own vantage points. Brick indifferently ignored her distant response. He switched on a German radio station and for the next six hours, they didn't exchange a word.

When Brick finally did speak again, he shattered the soft, warm atmosphere in the car so abruptly and loudly that Blossom almost jumped.

"I'm turning in here. We can eat at that little café."

Blossom straightened her seat and turned off the faint, constant hum of the radio. Brick glided into the exit lane, into the small, road side town. The village/rest stop offered a small park, a local bar, a coffee house style diner which Brick had referred to, scattered odds and ends shops, and perhaps a hundred or so, hum drum, sleepy German citizens.

By now, her breakfast of energy bar seemed long ago, and Blossom was quite eager to examine the menus placed before them. The number of options was about equivalent to the size of the town, but at least the mass BLT sandwich was large enough to satisfy her grumbling stomach. Brick finished his burger before her. He leant back, stretched his arms behind his back, and interlocked his finger behind his head, observing her general direction with a little boredom, but Blossom could easily tell that he was actually looking behind her, inconspicuously watching through the large store front windows. The pink puff slowly sipped the remainder of her ice tea through her straw, not especially motivated to get back into the car. Long road trips with Brick were anything but a wild party. She had a small fear that if she got back in her warm front seat, she might actually drift off, and Brick would not be pleased.

Just at that moment, she felt a peculiar vibration around her wrist. Confused, Blossom brought her hand closer to her face. Her watch was silently shaking, and on the screen, the time had disappeared, replaced by two words, _"__Incoming Message__"_

Blossom looked up to look at Brick. He had not moved from his original position except that now he was giving her a hard stare. Eyes never leaving her face, Brick released his arms from behind his head and left a tip on the table. With no rush in his movements, he got up and gave her a small nod. Bewildered, Blossom followed him out to the parking lot. Even if she wasn't sure what was happening, she had at least enough common sense to not draw attention to her ever trembling watch.

Once inside the car, with the doors firmly closed, Brick's fingers flew to his wrist, where he swiftly pressed a button. His watch emitted a beep, but he ignored this as he roughly snatched Blossom's arm and repeated the action. Blossom's device made an identical ping and the vibration abruptly stopped. Her screen turned a glowing blue, and now two new words appeared, _"__Voice Recognition__"_

Brick moved his watch up to his mouth.

"Brick Strogoy Jojo."

As he spoke, his face turned towards her, and he gestured with his free hand to do the same. Blossom responded instantly, finally getting an idea of what it all meant. As she spoke, she gave Brick a dirty look. He didn't have to be so secretive. Why couldn't he just say, "Update from HQ," or something?

"Blossom Utonium."

"_Voice Recognition: positive__" _chorused the two watches in soft digital voices. Now, a single word materialized on the screen for a brief second, _"__LIVE__"_

A familiar face filled the entirety of the watch's display. Director Sherry Agathit blinked her enormous watery eyes, looking straight Blossom's face, indicating to the puff that her watch was also transmitting video feed.

"_**Hello Reds. All's well I presume?**_**"** the CIA director's voice sounded clearly through the watches' tiny, but obviously high tech, speakers.

"So far, no signs of anything out of the ordinary." Brick lowered the watch from the close proximity to his face. Blossom mirrored his move.

"_**You are on the move to Italy?"**_

"Yes, Ma'am. I estimate that we will arrive some time tomorrow."

"_**I see. You two have encountered no problems?**_**"**

Brick turned to her direction briefly, displaying his cold contempt of her company. But as they had already made their distaste for each other quite clear to Sherry, neither felt obliged nor inclined to continue whining. Brick readdressed his superior, carefully wording his response to attend only to Sherry's real interests.

"No major concerns pertaining to the case. Nothing we saw in Berlin suggested foul play, the move of a homicidal maniac, or panic stricken citizens."

Blossom gave a curt nod and continued to stare down at the watch, having nothing to add to that blunt and starkly true statement. They had wasted two days in Berlin. They had nothing to report, nothing to say, nothing to even comment on. Nothing.

Sherry narrowed her giant eyes.

"_**I see. Disappointing, but not a surprise. He is thorough in his work. Our top scientists have failed to identify any more chemical compounds from the victims, so we have no more information, conjectural or otherwise, to help you in your search. For now, you will have to carry on looking for abnormalities that catch your eyes. I trust your instincts. Bad vibes, odd groups, suspicious individuals, and by that you know I don't necessarily mean drug lords and pedophile creepers. But they still might know something, or have a tip. Anyone might.**_

"_**Reminders: Have fun in Italy - don't forget the side trip. And our criminal has a point. 'Everyone has a weakness.' Works vice versa too – he must have one. All to be said on this end. You know how to reach me. 10 - 4?"**_

Brick sucked in soft, determined breath before replying.

"Out."

Blossom gave another small dip of her head. Sherry gave them a stern look before she suddenly vanished from the screen, to be replaced by the time – 3:30 P.M. Brick made a small scowl, not necessarily directed at her, before sliding the keys into the ignition and gliding out of town.

* * *

As Brick hit the autobahn once again, he heaved a gusty mental sigh of frustration. Sherry's little rant only brought their lack of information harder down upon him. The villain was more than "at large." He, she, or perhaps even it was invisible, untouchable, unimaginable. Also, Brick's so called "family visit" was hanging overhead. And, to top it off, Blossom was ever present, as she would be in Italy during their little masquerade.

He didn't care to converse with Blossom, and the subject of his 'family' was always touchy. But, knowing the pink puff, she would be bordering on murderously impatient if he didn't explain the details of the next few days soon.

"So, I suppose now is as good of a time as any to explain the little side trip you've heard mentioned once or twice."

Blossom turned towards him, her long red hair flying around in a copper blaze, coming close to brushing his arm. She fixed him with a hard, inquisitive look before replying.

"Well, then explain."

The corner of Brick's mouth twitched downward at her fresh response. But, someone had to be mature, so he let it slide.

"I trust you can't be completely clueless to the hints of 'family' in Italy?"

"I may have a few theories. But, go ahead and explain."

"Fine. We will be attending a meeting of high class, world criminals located in the south of Italy, more commonly refereed to as the Mafia, but you would not be wise to use that terminology in front of them."

Blossom took in this information without so much as a blink. As Brick had thought, Sherry's nickname for his line of assignments had not been left un-coded by his counterpart.

"When you say, 'attend,' are you loosely referring to a stealth break-in or do you mean we have an actual invitation?"

Now, Brick smirked. So she hadn't realized the true nature of his work down south after all.

"Think, Pinky, did I say 'crash a meeting'?"

She scowled.

"For the last time, it's Blossom, and just answer my question!"

"Oh, someone's a little touchy. Scary thought? Well, then, prepare yourself, Miss Powerpuff, because we will be warmly welcomed by my Italian Family."

Blossom took this in with a moment of pause, but she showed no hint of shock, or even the mildest trace of surprise at this turn of events. Brick gave a small, smug chuckle, and broke his gaze away from hers, party because a response-less Blossom was a rare event to be cherished, and partly to hide that he wasn't sure if her calmness was a mask, or genuine.

Blossom's glower darkened and she folded her arms across her chest.

"First off, why wasn't I told this before? If you have any other oh-so conveniently forgotten mission details, do tell!"

Brick rolled his eyes, his satisfied expression sliding off his face.

"Yeah, yeah, Blossy, I know, you're pissed. But to be honest, I don't know much more either. More often than not, we are expected to instinctively fly by the seat of our pants, and take orders from HQ. So, nope."

"Ok, fine. Then, I'd like to hear the details of how you got involved with the Mafia."

Now, it was Brick's turn to scowl.

"Not much to know."

Blossom observed him with curiosity.

"I believe you mean, 'Not much you want me to know.'"

Brick kept his eyes to the road, all traces of former arrogant humor completely washed away.

"Maybe, 'Not much you need to know.' Closed cases, classified information, yada yada. Must you understand much more than the Mafia considers me a member, the CIA uses me, and you are to accompany me?"

Blossom seemed to ponder this for a second. Her eyes narrowed, the afternoon sun filtering through her long lashes. Brick stomach fluttered uncomfortably, sure that she could keenly feel him side-stepping the conversation. But, despite what she did or didn't think, she let it drop.

"Okay, fine. When is this meeting?"

The knot in his stomach loosened, and Brick couldn't help but be grudgingly grateful to Blossom for not insisting over reliving his…complicated, to say the least, past. Eager to escape his reminisces, he focused on her question.

"Meeting…is a loose word. A gathering would better a word to describe the event. And it's in three days."

Blossom twitched her lips, contemplating.

"So, if you are a member of the Mafia, I'm guessing I can't be an American college student conducting a survey?"

"Heh heh, no, you kidding me? They know exactly who you are, even with your fancy blue contacts. Blossom, leader of the Powerpuffs, the Titans of Townsville." He tossed her a leering, arrogant half-smile, "And, of course, my counterpart."

Blossom huffed.

"Sarcasm, Brick; it was sarcasm. I meant, how am I getting in? I don't belong to the 'family.'"

Brick conceded a nod.

"For once, yes, you're right, you can't stroll in. But, yet again, try to think, Sweets." Again, he looked at her expectantly, before sighing at the obvious. "You can get in if you're attached to me: as in, my date."

Blossom crinkled her nose.

"Only option?"

"Yup," replied Brick, popping the 'p.'

"Good grief, if this wasn't a mission to save the human race…"

Brick shrugged.

"Take it or wait for me outside."

"I think you know the answer to that question."

Brick chuckled, and for the first time, his dry laugh wasn't directed at her.

"Yeah, I know, you're as incorrigibly nosy as ever."

"Hm."

Silence descended upon them, the sun set, they passed into Switzerland, and the next time Brick glanced at his passenger, she was curled in a ball, her face pressed against the window, sleeping soundly.

As the hours passed, Brick too found it harder and harder to keep his lids open, until he finally decided at 11:30 that the danger of sleeping at the wheel, and his next to empty gas tank were strong enough motivators to pull into a small town bordering on Zurich.

"Hey there, Blossom."

He tapped her arm as they neared a motel. Her eyes flew open as she jolted awake, and her fingers jumping to shield where he had touched her.

"We're stopping for the night."

"M'k," she murmured thickly, sitting up and stretching her cramped limbs. All day power driving was not comfortable or relaxing to say the least, and the Reds were quite eager to pile out of the sports car.

But just as Brick had slammed the door shut and shouldered his bag, flashing lights a few blacks away caught his eye. He squinted, and saw a mass of humanity swarming over a small patch of ground.

Disregarding the idea of grabbing two rooms and crashing, Brick started quickly jogging to the site. As he turned to shout back at Blossom to come, he found her running noiselessly at his side, all fatigue gone from her now alert face.

The pair pushed their way through the crowd, straining to catch a glimpse of what all the fuss was about. Everyone around them was babbling loudly in German, and many were shrieking incorrherently, but Brick couldn't make out what they were saying. Blossom squatted down and wormed her way in; Brick followed in her wake. As they arrived at the line of police, they straightened and finally caught sight of the main attraction.

After years in the field as an agent, being an ex super villain, and a member of the Mafia, Brick had thought he had seen pretty much the worst of human mutilation. Now, looking at the scene before him, he was seriously rethinking his top ten list of ways not to die.

Lying on its back, was the naked corpse of tall, plump woman. The majority of her skin had been shredded into a barely distinguishable bloody pulp, and was spread out in a mess on the grass around her along with bits of hair, nail, and bone fragments. Her stumps of arms were stretched out before her, as if still trying to shield herself, and her hands had been gnawed on. The unfortunate woman's brains were seeping out of her ears and cracks in her skull, and her face – the only unharmed section of her body - was distorted into a horrible mask of utter terror.

Brick blinked, feeling his almost empty stomach give a heave of uncomfort. After a second of self-indulgent, blank horror, he suddenly remembered Blossom, who was standing at his side. Grateful for an excuse to tear his eyes away from the disgusting wreck of human carnage, he turned to her. She was open mouthed, wide eyed, and transfixed by the sight. Despite their past disagreements, rivalries, hatred, and sworn nemesis-hood, Brick felt a twinge of pity for his battle-innocent partner. In a weak minded moment, he acted in that pity and grabbed her upper arm, jerking her around to face him. Amidst the earsplitting, screaming chaos of the crowd, the shoving of the people behind and in front of them, and flashing of the police lights, the Reds locked eyes. Blossom gulped, and gave a little shudder. Her eyes didn't leave his face, nor his hand from her arm. In that one second, Brick felt a strange, unspoken connection, but then she opened her mouth and whispered the unthinkable, shattering his concentration.

"I know her."

Her voice was so soft; Brick could barely hear it above the deafening racket around them. His hand faltered and let go of her arm.

"What?" He stammered, incredulous. But her eyes trailed away from his face and over his shoulder. A strange intensity took hold of her and she fixated upon one point behind him.

"And her too!"

Brick whirled around, knocking over a random Swiss man. Blossom leapt nimbly over the fallen citizen and crashed sideways through the crowd, apparently chasing someone. Without hesitation, Brick bounded after her, shoving until her reached her side. As they exited the confusing mass of populous, he caught sight of their quarry – a short, also plump, woman sprinting down the dark village street. Blossom put on a burst of speed and Brick had to resist the temptation to fly in order to keep up with his nimble counterpart.

"Who?" he grunted as the woman swung a corner and they skidded to round the bend.

"At...hotel," she panted, "with…dead, huh, one."

_How is she able to stay ahead of us? We are super powered beings for crying out loud!_

The woman whipped down another alley way and started scrambling up a fire escape to the roof of an apartment building. Brick charged after her but by the time he was even at the bottom of the alley, the woman's shoe was disappearing over the edge of the roof.

Brick, deciding to toss caution and incognito to the wind, shot to the top of the building in a burst of dark red. Adrenaline pounding through his veins he whirled around, looking for the woman, but after a few seconds, he realized she was no longer there. The rooftop was completely barren. There were no footprints beside his own on the gravel. In a flash of pink, Blossom appeared at his side.

"Where - ?" she started but Brick shook his head.

"She's gone," he snarled. Frustrated, yanked off his hat and ran a hand through his bangs, and replaced it with a sigh. He folded his arms, staring out across the roofs of the small Swiss town. Zurich glittered in the distance.

"Now, would you please tell me why we were chasing that unearthly fast human? And what she has to do with the body?" he snapped at Blossom. Their brief feelings of comradery had died to be replaced once again by short tempers and dissent.

"This morning, on my way down to the lobby, I rode in the elevator with two women. They were arguing. The short one we were chasing," Blossom gestured to the empty space before them, "was trying to convince the woman whose mangled body is back there," she jerked a thumb over her shoulder back towards the crowd, "that they should go somewhere."

Brick continued to glare at Zurich, absorbing this new turn of events. A cold, night wind gusted by and they shivered, the weariness of the day redescended upon their exhausted bodies. The red ruff turned and jumped off the three story building, landing knees bent, with two fingers to balance himself. He straightened, Blossom followed and together, they trudged back to the motel.

"…I guess we got ourselves an update for Sherry," Brick murmured softly as they passed the still chaotic police scene, the colored strobbing lights the only illumination in the black night.

* * *

DUN DUN DUN! Finally, some action! :D

Oh, and I feel obliged to apologize for the gory description ^ above. But I really wanted you guys to…understand what all the fuss is about, so there was no way to side-step it…and, this fic is rated T, folks!

Also, we got some Br/Bl going on, huh huh? Fun to write :P

What did you all think of the Mafia bit? I bet most of you saw that coming…heh, not a completely original idea, but, I have my own twists. And the southern ladies in the hotel? How many of you foresaw something with them? Or, were you thinking, "Geez, LittleMissFutureToBe, why are you spending so much time and words explaining useless parts of Blossom's morning?" Lol, I'd love to know your thoughts. :)

Sorry again for the late update (that kinda rhymes, lol). I'll try to keep up more consistently now…

Thanks for reading! Please review, it is my motivation to write, and right now I think I'll be needing some of that… :)


	14. Chapter 13: Collision

Hey hey hey!

Oh my gosh, all the reviews were amazing! Thanks a bunch, you guys; you're the reason I continue writing! :)

(In response to "person" 's anonymous review – Thanks so much! :) And, I'll do my best to answer your questions without giving away any spoilers… ~ Yeppers, Brick is in both the CIA and the Mafia, but as the CIA is sending him to meet with the Mafia, they obviously know about this. Whether he is good or not (and which he is more loyal to) is really gonna have to be your personal opinion until proven in the story :P. ~ Heh, how did I come up with that scene? *sheepish look* Well, I know my villain and his techniques, so I just worked from there really. As stated in earlier chapters, he kills with fear…and anything I tell you would be a big spoiler, so you'll just have to wait! ~ Good question! I guess she just didn't consider them that important, or suspicious enough. *shrugs* - Anywho, thanks again for reviewing!)

Oh, and just wanted to remind you, each POV of each puff/ruff have their own opinions…and biases. Just keep that in mind while reading.

* * *

"ARGH! This is all your fault! You're impossible!"

"Me?"

The weary Greens were slumped on an abandoned bus stop bench just on the outskirts of Beijing. They had arrived there this morning by plane and promptly set out to locate one of Butch's old agent friends, who was stationed here in China. But they quickly discovered, despite Butch's fluency in Japanese (which, although she would never admit it to him, Buttercup was impressed with) he was seriously lacking in the Mandarin department. Their day in a nut shell, they had fruitlessly wandered the city, Buttercup had been pick pocketed, Butch had gotten them lost on the wrong bus, and now they were exhausted and annoyed, the sun was setting, and the old ladies they had just asked for directions had spat on them.

"This is not all my fault!" snapped Butch irritably, slouching even lower onto the graffitied, rotting bench, glaring at the children across the street who were chasing chickens back into their pen.

"Then whose is it? 'Cause it's certainly not mine! I voted we went onto the other bus line, but NOO you just KNEW whatever the hell that random prostitute babbled!" Buttercup threw her arms into the air, beyond frustrated with the entire situation, "And NOW look where we are!"

The young children stopped their giggling chase and stared curiously at the screaming Buttercup. She made a nasty face at them and they ran shrieking inside their family's apartment. Butch rolled his eyes.

"And, _I'm _supposed to be the impossible one…" Butch groaned and shook his head, tilting his face up to the sky, watching the growing dusk.

Buttercup growled, folded her arms across her chest, and turned her back on him.

But, if she was to be completely honest with herself, Butch's lack of suitable companionship or ability to navigate Beijing wasn't the only reason she was so put out. Oh yes, that was certainly one of the bigger factors in her bad mood.

But she was also homesick. They had received notice of Blossom and Brick's discovery of a body and the following chase this morning from Sherry, and ever since, Buttercup had been in an even more foul mood. She was jealous that they had seen the first real action, and the thought of her 'older' sister, running after the bad guy, long red hair flying behind her, determination etched on her face, brought back bittersweet memories of their childhood, of the days when they were still the Powerpuffs…still keeping Townsville safe, beating up the countless villains that plagued their little city…

Speaking of villains…or, now she might grudgingly have to admit, ex villains…

Buttercup shot her counterpart a sidelong glance, her mouth twisted into a scowl. His large emerald eyes gazed unseeingly into the pink-gray sky, spiked hair brushed against the back of the bench, mouth a gentle line, arms spread on the rim of the bench behind him, backpack flopped dejectedly beside him. Physically, he had changed over the years, and yet…so not. She could still clearly see that battle-anxious little brat of a super powered boy taunting her, driving her to the brink of insanity…

No, in that regard, not much had changed.

"So what do we do now?" she spluttered, waving her arms spastically again.

Butch rolled his head lazily to the side, his deep green eyes gazing peacefully at her, no expression on his blank face. He merely contemplated her like a bored angel.

And then he shrugged nonchalantly.

Buttercup grit her teeth.

"Excuse me?"

He sighed and sat up, rubbing and hand across his face.

"Look, I don't know…I'm tired, you're obviously tired – "

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I don't know where we are, I don't know how to contact my friend – "

"Apparently!"

"So, we're just gonna wait here for the next bus."

"What, and just hope it's the right one?"

"You have a better idea?"

Buttercup paused, not sure, but her blood was boiling, and she didn't want to spend another minute staring at his apathetic, egotistical, self-assured mug. The past few days had been full of bickering, endless squabbles, dead ends, no clues…

She wanted a lead in the case. A battle. A real villain to face.

ANYTHING but constant quarreling with her infuriating counterpart. Over the past three days, she had reached the end of her rope and was now itching for a fight. Only fitting it should be with him, the first and only being who could single handedly give her a beating…and she despised that. And him. And these last three days of hell with him.

And she was _soo_ done with it.

"That doesn't count as an idea! We're going in CIRCLES! I am fucking done with following you around, relying on you and your arrogance for everything. I'm so done!"

She jumped up from her spot on the bench and glowered dangerously down at him. Passively he gazed up at her, obviously not giving a crap. This just drove her over the edge. Her mind went fuzzy, every nerve in her body screamed to attack, to shred, to rip, to wipe that…him…off the face of the earth! Despite countless warnings to remain under cover, chemical X roared through her veins and her hands began to glow a faint green.

Butch mutely glanced at her, raised an eyebrow, looked to her trembling hands, and sat up, scowling darkly.

"Hey, idiot, the words 'low profile' mean anything to you?"

"I. Am. Not. An. IDIOT!"

"Well you sure act like it! I swear to God, you are the most immature, self absorbed – "

"AM NOT!"

"Well you ain't giving me any proof against it!"

Buttercup flexed her fingers, and willed the glow to die. Butch was also now on his toes, in an intense face off. She closed her eyes, clenched her jaw, and pictured the people she actually cared about. Her sisters, the Professor, her skating buddies, her friends on the soccer team, her best friend Mitch Michelson…

_For them, stay calm for them…_

She reopened her eyes with cold, dead detestation for Butch burning in the pit of her stomach. Less aggressive passion, but still very much alive.

"Let's just get this over with," she snapped flatly.

Butch narrowed his eyes, freshly awoken hate now clear on his face.

"You always were too proud…" he snarled through grit teeth.

The anger flared up in her veins and a vivid mental image of her own hand smacking him to Kingdom Come flashed across her vision.

Instead, she turned and sat back on the bench, staring frigidly in the opposite direction. Butch remained standing, fists clenched and brows drawn together. Just then, a crickity, smog-choking, old bus rounded the corner and lurched to a halt in front of them. The driver opened its door for them and Butch began to ascend the stairs. When Buttercup made no move to follow, he turned around and glared.

"Get on. Now."

Buttercup snapped her head around to glower at him, the urge to pick a fight surfacing yet again.

"You know, for a government agent, a supposed defender of the American way and solider for justice and all that, you sure don't have any manners."

"Way to scream that to the world."

"Yep, no manners."

"What, do you want me to bow and say pretty please, Miss Princess?"

By now the driver was glaring irritably at them and waving his hand for them to both pay and get on, but neither paid him any attention.

"Just a 'please' would be nice, for once."

"Fine. Would you _please_shut the fuck up and get on the damn bus?"

And, there it was.

The final proverbial straw.

_Boom_.

With that, Buttercup stood up, slung her pack to the ground, raised her fist and bashed her watch with all her might, green glow of power and all. There was a bright flash of lime green, the shattering sound of metal, and she was rid of the horrible tracking device which marked her as bound to this mission, to him, and the responsibility to stay.

Butch stared wide-eyed at her, while the driver cowered backwards into his seat and the few passengers shrieked.

"What? You surprised? Well, don't be, I've had ENOUGH and you should've seen it coming!" Buttercup ranted, casting the last remains of her watch onto the sidewalk, scooping up her pack and rushing down the street, not bothering to cast Butch a backwards glance, but his voice followed her.

"SO THAT'S IT, HUH? WELL, GOOD RIDANCE! AND GOOD LUCK ON YOUR OWN!"

For a second, Buttercup hesitated, one foot in the air.

_This isn't my style…running away from a fight._

But working with Butch wasn't her style either. And, although she refused to cooperate with him, she couldn't deny that he and the others had a mission of great importance to complete. The CIA still needed him, in one piece, with his alibi as a human in tact. If she egged him into a fight, or attacked him, that'd be it: they would both be shipped back to the U.S.

So, she stomped her foot back down with bitter determination and took off at a full sprint, leaving Butch and the bus stop in the distance. Blindly, she whizzed around several corners, desperate to remain hidden to him. As the fire of adrenaline and chemical X cooled in her veins, her breath became ragged and short, and she was thoroughly lost in the maze of Beijing suburbs, she slowed to a despondent walk. A few locals gave her odd looks, but quickly resumed their day-to-day lives, not casting her forlorn figure a second glance.

While she puttered aimlessly in the general direction of downtown Beijing, Buttercup had plenty time to reflect and consider. She came to two noteworthy conclusions:

She had just committed a rash, stupid, and un-premeditated action which was probably causing Butch a good deal of trouble right now. Not that he didn't deserve it. But Buttercup was willing to bet anything that the watches had GPS tracking devices. In her mind, she could clearly visualize Sherry and countless faceless government agents laboring over a digital world map, and having a spaz attack as her little lime green blip suddenly vanished. She smirked at the idea of frustrated Butch being spammed with HQ's demands as to why she had supposedly been wiped off the face of the earth.

As satisfying as these thoughts were, they did not better her situation. She had no money of any kind, no way of contacting anyone back home, she didn't speak the language, she was utterly lost, and the sky was getting blacker and blacker by the second. Wandering the streets of Beijing all night long was becoming a more and more dangerously looming reality.

It was now very dark. Buttercup no longer had a watch, but she knew that it was really late. Not that it would have helped her tell what time it was, but she couldn't even see the stars because of all the lights of the city. The streets were barren of anyone, and a few of the streetlights kept sputtering. The whole atmosphere was a little eerie.

Finally, as ironic as it may be, she settled down on another bus stop bench, this time with no money to pay for passage. Buttercup had never been the pitying type, (that was Bubble's department) but at this moment, she began to understand how lonely and dejected homeless people must feel as they settle down for the night. Grimly, she wrapped her arms around herself and hunkered down to wrack her brain for any other options.

Just as she was about to maybe, even, perhaps, possibly start regretting her decision to ditch Butch, a small voice interrupted her.

"Excuse me, Lady, but why are you sitting there?"

Buttercup jerked her head up to see a small Chinese boy, no older than a year and a half, gaping innocently up at her with enormous, adorable black eyes full of wonder. Buttercup's jaw dropped a little.

"Uh, you speak English?" she spluttered in surprise. "And where are your parents?" she questioned, looking up and down the empty road. Not a single living thing stirred in either direction. Buttercup sat up and looked at the child more directly. The tiny thing gave a small giggle.

"Yes, silly lady, I speak English. And, don't worry about my parents…" the boy trailed off peculiarly and gave her a lopsided grin. Buttercup continued to eye him with growing suspicion.

"So, um, what's your name, Kid?"

"I'm Lee. But, you still haven't answered my question, Buttercup, why are you here?"

"Whoa, whoa, wait, how did you know my real name?" she stammered, now completely alarmed. She and Butch had been passing off as twins, taking advantage of their remarkable physical likenesses, and their names had changed with each new location.

"Questions, questions, BC, you have so many, yet you still haven't answered my one and only. Why are you here?"

His lopsided grin disappeared, replaced with a look of intensity and manipulation belonging to a much older person. Buttercup stood up now, grabbing her backpack, completely freaked out. She knew that if it came down to a fight, he would be no competition, but this tiny human was scaring her on another level – how did he know all this?

"Ok, ok, Lee, um, I'm here because I'm waiting for my twin."

Lee smiled again, but not the cute, crooked grin of an innocent toddler. He sneered up at her and laughed an ice cold chuckle.

"Oh ho, ho, your twin," he leered mockingly, a disturbing combination with his young squeaky baby voice, "Come now Buttercup, let's not lie to each other. You and Butch never were the best of friends, hmm?"

"Okay, okay, Lee. How 'bout you go run along home and forget everything or I'll tell your mommy and hopeful she can transform you back into an cute normal little toddler who isn't freaking me out, m'k?"

"My mommy? Really? A little respect, Buttercup. No one gets anywhere in this life without some ass kissing. So, tell me, are you starting to reconsider your bold decision to part ways with your counterpart and partner? Because, I got a secret to spill: he is worried for you. Now isn't that sweet?"

There was no mistaking the malevolence in the Lee's round face. Buttercup shouldered her pack and stared fearfully down at the unnerving creature, who she was considering less and less human as the seconds passed on.

"You know what, Lee; I'm outta here. So, yeah, bye, and I've never said this to a kid before, if you even are a kid, I'm not sure, but I hope you drown or something in the near future."

"Now, that – was just plain mean. Geez, even **I** wouldn't expect something that cruel to come out of a Powerpuff's mouth, even considering it is you."

Buttercup turned on her heel and began walking away as calmly as she could, resisting the urge to break away in a sprint.

"Okkkaaaayyyy, yeah…not talking to you anymore, bye."

As she reached the end of the block, she dared to take a quick peek over her shoulder. Lee was standing motionless where she left him with an absolutely terrified expression. She stumbled in step and turned to look back, unable to ignore how small and defenseless he looked. But as soon as she had come to a full stop, he lit up with a grin so sadistic and evil, Buttercup didn't know how his baby face could form it.

"Bye bye for now, Buttercup, but we'll meet again," he called after her in the voice of a full grown man, before spinning around and stumbling away as fast as his chubby little legs could take him. He turned a corner and was lost to sight.

Buttercup was frozen in place, watching him go, but as soon as he disappeared from view, she snapped out of her trance and chased after him.

"Wait, get back here! What are – "

She zipped around the bend and once again came to a stand-still. A couple of loose flyers, fluttered in the night breeze. The deathly silence of the deserted, dead ended alley hit her like a brick wall.

"…you?" she whispered, an ominous feeling of dread creeping upon her.

After examining the area, finding no escape routes possible to a normal kid (emphasis on "_normal_"), the green puff began walking urgently and with purpose towards the ever-lighted downtown of Beijing sparkling on the horizon. But now, she had a new goal in mind: relocate Butch and warn HQ, because something was going on.

* * *

Butch groaned inwardly as Buttercup took off down the street. Still burning with fury, he jumped back to the sidewalk and waved the bus on. The frightened driver didn't need to be told twice before he slammed his doors shut and screeched away.

Butch dropped his bag to the ground and cupped his hands around his mouth.

"SO THAT'S IT, HUH? WELL, GOOD RIDANCE! AND GOOD LUCK ON YOUR OWN!"

As he suspected, Buttercup faltered at such an open invitation for a fight. Butch cracked his knuckles eagerly, positive she would turn around and come racing back, screaming foul names at him. He tensed, ready for a fight. Out of everyone he had ever fought, none so evenly matched him as Buttercup. Even nine years later, he could still remember the rush of a full on, rage driven, head to head brawl with his counterpart. A predatory grin slid onto his face in anticipation.

Despite his livid and battle-hungry state, a faint, sane voice echoed in his head.

_Not here, not now…you'll blow your cover. Innocent civilians could get hurt…focus on the mission…_

Impatiently, he pushed the voice away, his eyes never leaving Buttercup's back. Then, she stomped her foot back down and zipped away, turned a corner, and vanished. Butch's jaw dropped a little.

_Really, Buttercup? Wow, that was weird…eh, all for the better, she was a pain in the ass, and maybe I'll finally get some work done with her whining._

Still fuming with rage against the puff, he snatched up his bag and re-flopped back onto the bench, folding his arms tightly across his chest, when finally, the enormity of her departure struck him.

She was gone. His partner, a guest agent, had ditched him. That had to break, like, every rule in the handbook. They had no rendezvous point, no reason to spilt…no way to reconnect. Not that he wanted to find her, but technically it was true. Her watch was in pieces around his feet.

_Stupid, stupid, stupid Buttercup…oh shit, Buttercup! What the hell? Argh, you are so frickin' kidding me!_

Just at that moment, his watch began to vibrate. Butch rolled his eyes, pressed the button, quietly stated his full name, and glared as Sherry appeared on the screen.

"Hey," he snapped grumpily.

"_**Agent Butch, what has happened? Where is Buttercup?"**_ Sherry growled, leaning into the camera so close that Butch could see up her nose.

Butch sighed in exasperation.

"She ran away."

A second of silence.

"_**What? Why? Why didn't you stop her? What happened to her watch?"**_ she spluttered.

He grit his teeth and resigned himself to the conversation.

"We've been wandering Beijing, she got frustrated, we argued, she refused to cooperate, smashed her watch in, and took off."

Another second of silence. Butch rolled his green eyes up to the now black sky and waited for the explosion. And, within a moment he received it.

Bingo.

"_**WHAT? Didn't you realize that it is your responsibility to stay together? Now she could be anywhere in the city! A loose end with too much information for her own good! Did you even pause to **__**consider**__** that she might be captured and tortured for said information?" **_

Butch kept his eyes on the sky in a bored manner throughout the rant, although this new suggestion (which he had not, in fact, considered) pricked at his conscience. But, not that he was going to show it.

"Yeah, yeah, like I could have stopped her without revealing my powers. And she's a big girl; she made her choice. Let's not cry over spilt milk, ok?"

"_**Agent Butch,"**_ murmured Sherry in a dangerous voice_**, "you are to go out there right now, find her, and call me when you do. Do. You. Understand?"**_

Butch turned his gaze back to the watch screen, and sighed.

"How am I supposed to find her?"

Sherry gave him a dark, don't-cross-me-now glare.

"Yeah, yeah…" he grumbled.

"10-4."

"Roger."

Sherry's scowl disappeared behind the digital numbers of the watch. It was 8:01. The street lights flickered and glowed a bleak yellow, faintly illuminating the shadowy street. Butch groaned, ran a hand through his short, spiked hair, slung his pack over his shoulder, and trudged off in the direction Buttercup had fled to.

In a city crammed full of **19.6 million** people, how on earth was he supposed to find a single one who was desperate to avoid him? His task was bleak and virtually impossible. How many days, even weeks, would he be forced to scour Beijing for her?

_Okay, okay, let's be positive here…try to predict what she would do…argh, but when I did that before, she didn't come to the fight, she just left! But it's still the best I can do…think, think, we're counterparts, that has to count for something. What does she have with her? A backpack, a change of clothes…but no money. No language…_

Guilt and concern were not emotions Butch was used to or comfortable with. But now, as his fury slowly began to ebb, he was forced to deal with them. Buttercup was certainly not in a good situation, most probably very lost. At night. Alone. In some slum of Beijing.

For at least the fourth time, he groaned resentfully. She wasn't even with him and she was still a pain in the ass…

Two hours passed. Butch could see his breath. Having escaped the relatively silent suburban area they had parted in, he was surrounding by honking cars, flashy neon signs, and the loud chatter of the Chinese people. But still, no sign of Buttercup.

Finally, at 1:00 am, as he passed a motel, Butch was ready to throw the towel in and start again in the morning, but before he had fully yanked the door open, his conscience started nagging at him. Buttercup was still out there, alone, no money for her own room…

_ARGH! GOD DAMN IT, BUTTERCUP!_

Furious at her, and himself for actually caring, Butch stormed down the street, pushing roughly past stumbling drunkard. The confused man fell roughly to the sidewalk with a grunt, before shouting back at Butch.

Now, Butch had never claimed to be completely fluent in Mandarin, but it was similar enough to Japanese that he could understand quite clearly when someone swore at him. He rounded on the dirty-mouthed scoundrel and grabbed him by his shirt collar, holding him off the ground with one arm.

"什么 * ?" he growled fiercely, unable to form a more threatening sentence with his limited vocabulary. [* "What?" ]

"近义词 美洲人 **…" slurred the man, blinking blearily into Butch's angry face, and swinging his legs pathetically above the sidewalk, trying to reach back to earth. [** "Ugly (bad-tempered) American" ]

Butch rolled his eyes and was about to throw him back down when he continued mumbling.

"你看起来像意指别的女子 *** …" The dismal man writhed in Butch's grasp now, clawing in a disoriented fashion at the ruff's hand on his shirt front. [ *** "You look like the other mean girl…" ]

Butch's eyes widened and he shook the man slightly, a surge of hope leaping up in him.

"地点女子 **** ?" he stumbled over his words and the accent, but snarled them angrily to make sure the half-conscious man understood he meant business. [ **** "Where girl?" ]

But instead of responding, the intoxicated fool began to snicker and hiccup, showing off a display of rotted teeth.

"Aheeheehee, Aheehee, heh," he wheezed, blasting Butch with his dry, alcohol-filled breath.

Butch dropped him in disgust and anger. He glared down at the crumpled mess, still chuckling.

"I…I…I do not know…" he rasped, still drunkenly sniggering, until something choked him and his hoots morphed into strangled coughs. "She not like me too, ahuemp, arhumph."

Butch bit the inside of his cheek, and turned from the shuddering waste of a human. He looked up and down the traffic-filled, noisy street. Buttercup was no where to be seen.

"When?" he snapped.

The miserable wretch struggled to his feet a pointed a shaking finger at Butch, a crazed smile plastered on his dirty face.

"Uh...uh…three, zero…minute!" he stuttered proudly

"Thirty minutes," muttered Butch looking back up and down the street. "Okay, um thanks." Like this man was in any state to be judging time…Buttercup could be long gone…or perhaps, just perhaps, he would get lucky.

Of course he didn't.

Dawn came and went, and Butch was still on the streets. A very cranky, exhausted, starving, desperate Butch. Butch who hadn't slept in thirty five hours. Butch who was seriously ticked off at his elusive quarry.

His soul consolation was that she most assuredly did not pass a more comfortable night than him. She too was somewhere, freezing cold, worn out…

_Gotta stop thinking like that…can't be rightly furious at her if I…urgh, hate to say it, but…I'm worried about her…She's just so clueless, how can she be ok; how is she handling this?_

His stomach growled disturbingly loud and he wavered in front of a Starbucks.

_Coffeeeeeeeee…mmmmm_

Giving in to temptation, Butch eagerly hurried into the warm interior. Impatiently, he waited in line, his gaze roving over the sweet-smelling room, filled with people enjoying an early morning, caffeinated drink before a long day at work. In his distracted, fatigued state, Butch was taken completely by surprise by a light tap on his shoulder. He jumped a few inches into the air and whirled around on a tall, middle-aged and elegant-looking Latin American man. Butch stared wide-eyed at the man for a second, trapped like a deer in head lights, while the other's mouth slowly stretched into an amused smile.

"Well, well, if dis isn't lucky, I dun't know whad is," murmured the man softly in a thick accent.

Butch slowly broke into a wide grin, feeling like a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

"Oh my God, Adriano , you have NO idea how great it is to see you right now!" chuckled Butch in weak relief, thrilled to have found his old agent friend whom they had been fruitlessly searching for all of yesterday.

Adriano smiled pleasantly and put a hand on the younger male's shoulder.

"No, no, I dink I do know. I imagine you must be in great distress."

Butch's smile wavered and his eyebrows pulled together in confusion.

"How do you figure that?"

"Your friend has explained da whole siduation to me."

"My friend? Huh?"

But Adriano shook his head and removed his hand from the green ruff's shoulder.

"Come, wid me. I will explain all."

Coffee-less and confused Butch followed the other agent out of the Starbucks and down the street. As they mingled with the crowd, Adriano began leading him on a very specific route.

"If I assume correctly, you are searching for a certain someone, no?"

"Yes, but how do you know – "

"Because she is looking for you too. I found her late last nighd. It took me a while to convince her dat I was who I said I was," Adriano spoke quickly, winding through the crowds with ease.

"Wha? How did you know she was with me?" stuttered Butch, taken aback.

Adriano chuckled melodically.

"My dear Butch, she is, how do you say it in da Americas? Da spidding image of you?"

"Spidding image of – oh, the spitting image of me!"

"Yes, yes, of course. And once I approached her," Adriano laughed quietly again, "her fiery temper and sharp tongue quickly assured me beyond a doubt, she was da one you told me about a few years ago when we first met – your counterpart, mm?"

Butch's mouth dropped a little.

"So…you are telling me you randomly found Buttercup, knew her on sight, and convinced her that you were with me?"

Adriano threw him a playful smile over his shoulder and gave a short nod.

"Where is she?" he exclaimed, now doubly thankful to have run into Adriano.

And, now that he knew Buttercup was safe and in good hands with Adriano, he was ready to irately confront her for the headache she had caused him. He cracked in his knuckles in anticipation, but even his frustration at the puff for this nightmare, he couldn't ignore the watery feeling of immense relief in the pit of his stomach.

"Az soon az I realized who she waz, I of course offered her to rest ad my place, but," the Latino man gave a small wry smile, "I dun't believe she trusted me. She refused to give up looking for you. I provided her wid a cellular phone and my number, so we can call her now and she will meet us back ad my apartment."

Butch couldn't keep the smug little smile from his face.

"She wouldn't stop looking for me, eh? Heh, she missed me that much?"

Adriano chuckled yet again.

"Az you Americans so aptly say 'dream on.' She said she had very important information for a mission dat she would only give to you."

Butch remained silent for a minute, as he and Adriano swerved off the main road onto a smaller side street packed full of apartments.

"Here," stated Adriano simply as he unlocked the front door to a small lobby, which consisted merely of a flight of winding stairs. Butch followed him up four flights until they reached the very end of the staircase.

After fumbling with the keys for a second, the ruff's host let them into a tiny living space. Exhausted, Butch threw himself face first onto the miniature couch, his long legs dangling over the edge.

"I will call her now," said the other with a grin, and moved into the kitchen space and started punching numbers into a landline phone.

"Nnnnuuuuhhhhh….thanks a million, Adriano…." mumbled Butch from his stifled position.

"Anytime. I can never repay da debt I owe you for my life," said the older agent seriously.

Butch waved his hand in his general direction.

"Would you just shut up 'bout that already? We're more than even."

Adriano smiled ruefully at the face-down teenager, holding the phone up to his thin face.

"Never, Butch," he then turned his attention to the phone in his hand, "Ah, yes, Buttercup? I have found him; we are ad my apartment. You remember where it is? Ah, ok, good, good. See you soon."

He hung up, walked over, and gave the still collapsed ruff a friendly slap on the back. Butch groaned resentfully and rolled over.

"She'll be here in den minutes."

"Den, den, den…" mimicked Butch, yawning and rubbing his hand over his face.

"Yah, yah, let's see you speak Spanish. Or Mandarin."

"Japanese?"

"Still got you beat by one."

Butch stared at the ceiling, contemplating.

"I got laser eyes."

"Let's not even go dere."

Butch grinned in amusement, until Adriano hit him in the face with a bag of chips.

"Thanks, man," he said before speedily ripping open the defenseless bag and gobbling down the entire contents. Just as he was licking the last bits of salt off his fingers, there was a few loud knocks on the door. Adriano quickly moved to open it and Butch looked up from his 'meal.'

The Latin American agent opened the door and stepped aside, leaving Butch in Buttercup's line of sight. Butch stared at her from his completely reclined position on the couch, eyes wide, his index finger still in his mouth. Buttercup returned the stare. She looked…just like he felt. Beat up, worn out, weak from hunger and dehydration, dark circles under her eyes, and her black hair rumpled. Her iridescent lime eyes remained silently locked with his own deep forest-green orbs for a few second before they both sprang to life in the same instant.

"WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?"

"WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?"

They both bellowed in unison. Buttercup stormed into the apartment, slung her bag to the side as she ranted, but Butch couldn't hear what she was saying because he had sprung up from the couch and was shouting at the same time. The two reunited Greens stood nose-to-nose, turning red in the face from screaming.

"I HAVE BEEN SEARCHING EVERYWHERE FOR YOU!"

" – YOU PIG-HEADED JERK, LISTEN TO WHAT I'M TRYING TO SAY!"

" – NO IDEA HOW MAD SHERRY IS, WHAT POSSESED YOU TO EVEN CONSIDER SMASHING YOUR – "

"AND OH MY GOD, ALL NIGHT LONG, FREEZING COLD, LOOKING FOR THAT FREAKY KID AND – "

**CLANG.**

Both stopped abruptly at the loud noise next to their ears. Shocked, they turned their heads to see Adriano wielding a pot and a spoon, still vibrating from the tremendous whack he had given them.

The puff and the ruff blinked a few times before sheepishly turning to face their cringing friend.

"Uh, sorry…Adriano, I mean, not you," grumbled Butch, throwing Buttercup a dirty look.

Buttercup rolled her eyes in disgust at him and blew some breath out of her nose.

"Yeah, sorry…I guess we got…carried away…"

Adriano shook his head knowingly.

"It is all right. I guess dis is whad happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object."

The Greens swapped a quick, awkward look, and shuffled back a step or two.

"So, let's get dis straight. Butch, is dere something you would like to say _nicely_ to Buddercup?" asked Adriano, folding his arms across his chest and arching an eyebrow.

Butch twitched his mouth disdainfully, but with a sigh, turned again to face Buttercup who was glaring defensively at no one in particular. For Adriano's sake, Butch took a deep breath, calmed himself, and lowered his voice.

"Okay. Buttercup, what the hell were you thinking?" said Butch in a dry monotone, but his words alone were more than enough to convey his real attitude towards her.

"I was pissed, sick and tired of you, and, really, if it wasn't for a piece of information important enough to the mission that I will disregard our personal spat to come give it to you and Sherry, I would be halfway back home by now," she replied in an equally fake passive tone.

"All right, I'm sure Sherry would _love_ to hear this oh-so important news, because she sent me out on a wild goose chase for you and now we have to call her to let her know you're okay."

"Fine."

Adriano let out a breath of satisfaction and went to the kitchen to put away his cooking utensils. Butch help up his wrist and Buttercup moved to look over his shoulder, watching him push the few buttons.

"Butch Strogoy Jojo," he stated in a bored voice.

"_Second face detected – name?__"_

Butch looked expectantly to Buttercup. She put a hand on his left shoulder and pushed down to get a clearer view.

"Buttercup Utonium."

Butch shook her hand roughly from his shoulder and Buttercup blew a raspberry in his ear.

"Ugh," he snapped, rubbing his ear on his shoulder.

Adriano smirked.

"I will make something for us to eat," he called from the kitchen.

As if on cue, the Greens' stomachs rumbled loudly together. He chuckled and set about with some pans. The tiny screen of the watch flickered.

"_Please wait, connecting…_"

Sherry's face came into focus.

"Got her," said Butch briefly and irritably while Buttercup scowled.

"And I got news," the puff snapped.

"_**All right then, spit it out. And, you better have a **__**damn**__** good reason to have abandoned the mission **__**and smashed your watch in!**_"

Buttercup glared, but not strongly enough to hide her ever so slight fear of the angry woman on the other end. The corner of Butch's mouth twitched upward in amusement and self righteousness.

_Time to face your own, sweet music, BC…_

"Okay, okay…I'm sorry for destroying my watch…and ditching Butch. It was irresponsible and reckless," said Buttercup sullenly. Butch titled his head briefly to look at her, a bit surprised to hear the proud and spunky girl apologize. If Buttercup noticed his side-long glance, she ignored it.

"But, it's almost a good thing that I did because I discovered something important because of what I did."

Butch half-rolled his eyes and refocused on the screen. _Shoulda known better than to believe she actually meant it…_

Before Sherry could interrupt her, Buttercup rushed on.

"So, while I was just wandering around, still blowing off steam from – "

At this moment, they both turned their heads, knowing the other was thinking of their aggressive goodbye, but finding their faces a little closer than expected. Butch shifted his weight to his other foot, and Buttercup cleared her throat.

"…from a disagreement. Um, I sat down on a bus station bench to think – "

Butch barely suppressed a snort of laughter at the irony of the situation. Buttercup discreetly kicked him in the back of the knee. He winced and made a sour face. Sherry either didn't notice or didn't care.

"…to think," repeated the green puff darkly, "and then, all of the sudden, this little boy, I mean, the kid couldn't have been older than two, appeared out of nowhere and started talking to me. It was really creepy. He was like a normal little toddler in the beginning, being all cute and dumb and stuff, but as he went on, it got weirder and weirder. He knew my name, my real name, before I said it. He knew I had separated with Butch, he knew his name too, he knew we weren't twins, and that we didn't get along…and the way he laughed…"

Buttercup shuddered. Butch was taken aback: as much as she irked him, he couldn't deny that she was one of the bravest people he knew.

"It wasn't normal at all…he said…he said Butch was worried about me and – "

Butch's eyebrows flew up and he gave the girl beside him an odd look.

_WAS NOT!...well….erm, okay, maybe a __little__ bit…but how would a kid…that doesn't make sense…?_

"…and then I got freaked, and tried to leave, but when I looked over my shoulder, he looked so friggin' innocent and scared, I stopped again. He smiled really evilly and said, in an adult man's voice, that we'd meet again for sure. Then, he ran away and disappeared into a dead ended alley. There was absolutely no way any human could've gotten away in there. He just…vanished."

Silence filled the room. Even Adriano stopped bustling about his small kitchen to pause and stare speechlessly at Buttercup.

"_**Well, this is a development, indeed. Apparently, you agents are no longer secret to the enemy."**_

"Enemy?" spluttered Butch, "A psychotic little kid?"

"No normal kid," growled Buttercup menacingly.

"_**No, actually…I don't think this child is our killer…nor is the woman the Reds were chasing. Today, two more bodies were found…Blossom has identified one as the woman she saw in the hotel and later pointed out to Brick in Switzerland, one Hilary Gregory. Except the body of Mrs. Gregory was found in Berlin, time of death dated to about two days ago."**_

"Huh?" chorused the Greens.

"Didn't they chase her down last night?" questioned Butch.

"_**So they reported. And the second body becomes just as puzzling with Buttercup's report. This morning, we received word of the death of a very young Chinese toddler. His time of death – late afternoon, yesterday. His name was Lee Wan-Jing."**_

Buttercup's mouth hung open in pure shock. Butch faced her with mounting confusion and apprehension.

"Was his name – "

"Lee. He said it was Lee."

"…_**here's a photo of him, provided by his family, before his death."**_

The screen abruptly changed to a photo of a cute Asian child, with large black eyes and a lopsided grin. He had a mop of wispy black hair and was in the arms of a young and pretty woman, who Butch assumed to be the deceased child's mother. Looking at the happy kid, barely old enough to not be called a baby, Butch felt his heart squeeze in pain.

_What sort of monster could kill an innocent child?_

Buttercup bit her lip and turned abruptly away.

"That was the kid," she muttered through clenched teeth, eyes cast downward.

Thickly, Butch swallowed, rage building up inside. This villain had to be stopped. How many murders was this now? And how many more undiscovered corpses were there?

"But…he wasn't the same one I talked to. The…thing wasn't a kid. Wasn't normal. It was far too corrupt and evil."

"_**No, we know. They body of the child had been undisturbed for many hours before his parents found him. Can you remember when you spoke to…it?"**_

"Late last night. I…don't know what time it was. Midnight?" she guessed, slowly facing Sherry again.

"_**Ok. We're working on this day and night, so keep faith, ok? We'll get to the bottom of this."**_

For the first time, Butch realized how haggard Sherry looked. Bags under her eyes, lines of worry creased on her forehead, the coffee cup she sipped…she wasn't lying, HQ was working overtime, like them.

"Anything else?" asked Butch quietly.

"_**Not on this end. Where are you two now?"**_

"Agent Adriano Hasdeo's apartment, old squad-mate and friend of mine. He found Buttercup, then bumped into me, and brought us back together."

"_**Very well. Rest for a while. I'll call again as soon as we have anything new. 10-4."**_

"Roger," replied Buttercup.

It was now 7:45 A.M. Disheartened and confused, the two wandered over to the kitchen, where Adriano had two steaming bowls of micro-waved leftover white rice, and two sunny side up eggs each.

"Thanks," they murmured before gulping down the strange breakfast, but they were too hungry, too sleepy, too angry, too dispirited to care. Adriano sat down solemnly, put his elbows on the able and rested his chin on his hands. The meal was eaten rapidly and without conversation.

As Butch scraped the last bits of rice out of his bowl, Adriano broke the silence.

"Well, I insist you two sleep here for da day, at least, and den you can decide your next move," he glanced at his wrist watch, which Butch knew on sight to be a CIA device, "I am already late for work, so I must leave now. Buddercup can have my bed, and Butch seems to like my couch well enough."

Despite the situation, Butch couldn't help but crack a bit of a grin. That was one of Adriano's best qualities; like Boomer, he could make anybody feel better.

"I feel like I've been saying this a lot, but thanks," he said, standing up and putting his bowl and plate into the tiny sink. Buttercup followed in suit.

"Yeah, thanks, Adriano," she said, giving him a small smile. Butch paused to notice it. He rarely saw his tough and feisty counterpart sincerely smile. It made her look more…friendly.

Their host showed Buttercup his room, closed all of his shutters, darkening his miniature apartment into a fake night. Butch was already sprawled out on his couch again. Adriano threw a blanket over the ruff's head, picked up his keys, and left quietly.

Butch dragged the blanket off his face and rolled over with it. His legs dangled off the end of the small sofa, but he fell asleep within minutes, glad to be dead to the world, even for a few hours.

* * *

Wowzers! (yes, I really did just say that :P) Definitely my biggest chapter yet! And now we're getting to some serious action…

So, lots of emotions for the good ole' Greens...hate, frustration, betrayal, worry, concern, bonding, fear…What'd ya'll think? :) Love to know how you think all of this will affect their already strained relationship!

And for Lee... Personally, I was kinda creeped out while proofreading. I guess that's good; that's what I was trying really hard for with him. Also love to hear your interpretations on him! Is he a zombie, ghost…maybe possessed…what other guesses? The other woman, Hilary, who was dead in Berlin the whole time?

Teehee, with Adriano, I wasn't planning on making a big deal about him, but as I wrote him and Butch interacting…well, I thought their relationship was sorta sweet! It was hard figuring out how to write his accent, but I just had to think like Ricky Ricardo from "I Love Lucy." Anybody else know what I'm talking about? :P

IMPORTANT THING: Yeah, yeah, I have Chinese above, but don't get all impressed with my languages skills or anything! Honestly, I just used an online translator! I have no clue if what I have up there is correct or what… If any of my readers speak/write/understand, etc. Mandarin and know how to correct my surely flawed attempt above, that'd be awesome! =3

IMPORTANT THING NUMBA 2: Ok, I'm really starting to be ashamed of my title…I came up with "Rejected Retried, Return," in two minuetes at 1:00 A.M. last year, when I was exhausted and just wanted to get out a prologue…back then I wasn't even sure if I would get past chapter one, but now, I want to change it to something less cheesy…:S anybody have any suggestions? The help is greatly appreciated! :D

Phew, with the length of the chapters, my AN seems to grow too…anywho, thanks for reading! Please review! Peace out! :)


	15. Chapter 14: Of Agony

Hola! Como esta? Um…amigos…um…ok, I give up, I don't really speak Spanish.

But, down to business, as always. The reviews were superb! Thanks for the support guys, really helps me keep writing…:)

And, nope, this is not a blue chapter…don't eat meh! D: Once again, I interrupt this PowerPuff broadcast with a villain snippet. A most needed one if you ask me, because you peoples are full of questions! :D I'm lovin' it! (BTW though, I hate McDonalds, blech…)

* * *

Footsteps echoed rapidly down the dim hallway. Ragged breaths and muted whimpers accompanied the slap, slap of feet pounding on stone floors. Terrified, eyes wide, mouth open and gasping, legs aching, and sore footed, the teenage girl fled down the darkened interior space, rushing along as quickly as she could manage. As she passed an ominous closed door, she jerked to a stop and desperately yanked on the brass, old fashioned handle. The door shuddered in its frame but didn't open. With a strangled sob, the young female leaned her forehead against the surface, hopelessly slamming a fist against the unyielding barrier. Regaining composure, she turned and rested her back on wall, still gasping for air, her chest heaving. She closed her eyes, ran a hand through her very short, colorfully dyed hair and took a few deep breaths, trying to calm the frantic pace of her heart.

After a moment or two of rest, she reopened her golden-brown eyes, used both hands to push out of her leaning position and continued dashing down the hall, unsure as to where it led, but silently praying for an escape from this hell. As she staggered down the increasingly black stone tunnel, she threw a quick look over her shoulder, before shaking her head fiercely and pushing onwards.

But as she did, a sinister chuckle reverberated from behind the fleeing girl. She grit her teeth, urgency urging on her flying feet.

"You think you can run from me?" sounded the amused voice from behind.

Thickly, she tried to swallow but her tongue was swollen with thirst and stuck to the top of her parched throat. Her eyes burned and head pounded, but she blinked and struggled on.

"Are you afraid?" cooed the voice playfully, sounding a little closer this time.

Her breath caught unevenly, but she was unable to speed up anymore.

"Okay, just stop," growled the voice, now directly in front of her.

With a gasp a terror, she did, falling to her knees, shredding her skinny jeans, but the girl was beyond caring. Trembling, she began crawling away the other direction, reaching for the wall to claw her way back to her feet.

"This has gone on long enough, don't you think?" murmured the voice in her ear.

With an ear-piercing shriek, she fell back to her knees, eyes squeezed shut, flailing her arms around her head, trying to ward…him, her, IT off…

"Swee – sweetheart?" choked a distant voice. The girl curled into a trembling ball, leaning against the wall, her hands over her face, not responding to the voice.

"Get out of my head…" the teenager moaned.

"Is that you, Honey?" sounded the other confused voice, and a middle-aged, kind-looking woman appeared out of the darkness. Finally, the girl looked up and the terror in her eyes was briefly replaced by hope.

"Mom?" she croaked in disbelief, her shaking hands pushing her back to her knees. The woman's warm hazel eyes connected with the girl's similar orbs.

"My baby!" the woman smiled comfortingly and opened her arms to the younger girl, who returned the watery grin.

"Oh my God, Mom, do you know the way out? What the hell is in here with us? How did you even get here?" the girl stuttered as she limped towards her mother. The woman's smile widened, revealing a sharp set of fangs. The previously reassured girl stumbled in step, terror taking over again.

"Mom…what the hell?" she whispered hoarsely.

"Oh, my little girl…I've been here all along!" snarled the woman, eyes sparkling blackly, taking a few steps closer, inches from

"NO!" she screamed, putting her hands over her ears and running back up the way she had just come, a broken sob strangling her from further screams. But as she reached the door again, another figure loomed out of the darkness.

The fleeing girl stopped again and cowered in the shadows.

"LEAVE ME ALONE!" she shrieked in anger and fear.

The other stepped a little closer, revealing himself to be a teenaged boy, very tall and very thin, with light brown hair. This newcomer was also panting, as if he had just arrived from sprinting.

The girl shook her head fiercely and blinked back tears, backing away distrustfully.

"No…no…Dan, NO get away! Don't come any closer!"

The boy titled his head to the side, his eyebrows furrowed.

"What the hell are you talking about? Come on, we gotta get out of here!"

"HELL NO! STAY AWAY FROM ME, YOU ARE NOT DANIEL!"

"You have to believe me, or we'll both die down here! Come on, now! We HAVE to get out of here, before that…thing gets back! Hurry, help me bust this door down!"

The boy threw himself at the door, which again refused to budge. When the girl didn't move to help, he approached her, still faintly gasping from exertion, concern in his eyes.

"Come on…or do you want to die?" He fixed her with a distressed look of worry. The girl blinked but didn't move. Slowly, as she watched, his pitying expression melted into a bemused gaze. A forked tongue slithered out of his mouth.

"Well, do you want to die?" he snarled, reaching one hand out to grab her shoulder, but the girl whipped around and fled back down the tunnel in her original direction.

"YOU WANT TO DIE?" screeched an unearthly voice behind her before giving chase.

Now sobbing openly, the girl raced on into the darkness, feeling the hot breath of the inhuman thing on the back of her neck.

"DO YOU?" it roared, disturbingly close to the teen's ear, who gave a shriek, tripped on something in the darkness, and abruptly face-planted. Her pursuer passed over her in a flutter of freezing cold. The bellowing roar twisted into a horrible high-pierced squeal.

The disgusting salty flavor of tears, sweat, blood, and dirt entered her mouth. The girl struggled off her face, using pure survival instincts to power herself away from whatever she had tripped over.

Inexplicably, a bright spotlight came on in that instant, focusing on the mound she had lost her footing on. The white light blinded her unadjusted eyes for a second, but after a second of squinting she could discern what the object was.

A rotting face. Half the flesh was ripped away, the skull exposed, bugs crawled in and out of its mouth and eye sockets. The foul stench hit her, her stomach recoiled, and the girl suddenly vomited where she knelt. The odd spotlight vanished just as quickly as it had appeared.

When her insides where done emptying themselves, the girl crawled weakly away with head down. Her entire body, inside and out, was aching and bleeding, and it took all of her inner strength a resolve of mind not to collapse into a trembling and defenseless ball.

But, without relent, the malicious voice continued to attack her from the shadows.

"Well, are you ready to die? A very important question that far too many people overlook…"

She whimpered and closed her eyes, not allowing herself to see what form approached now. Not wanting to know which of her family, her friends would attack next…

"Are you? I hope so…because you've run out of time!"

Steely claws raked down her back. Fiery pain blossomed, blood gushed, and her spine snapped. Her life flashed before her eyes, becoming confusing memories that her clouded mind now couldn't even verify as real or not.

The girl crumpled to the ground, her dying screams of agony filling the cavernous tunnels.

* * *

O_o

Ahem… once again, I must apologize for the dark violence. But, that's just the way my villain rolls…

Personally, I'm not thrilled to pieces with this snippet...it was hard to write and for me hard to read. Anybody else? Suggestions? Something that wasn't clear or clean?

Also, opinions on the villian, I'd love to hear 'em too! Any theories or hypothoizes? Questions rock too!

I'll get the Blue chapter out ASAP, promise! :D


	16. Chapter 15: Organic

Blue time! Oh, hee hee, for once, Blues were actually fun to write. I'd been planning this chapter, since, forever, so to finally get it out is a relief too.

OMG 100 + REVEIWS! :D Unbelievable, you guys blow me away with your epicness. Thanks so much!

Responses to a few anons:

Rose Petals: Thank you! I hope you'll find this Blue chapter satisfying!

YourBiggestFan: Wow! Your anon name and review certainly fed my ego! (Yum!) Thanks! I'm so flattered! Yeah…that would be unbelievably epic if it did! But, hardly likely :P I can dream though…

Hailey: Thank you! Glad you are enjoying it! Oh my god, that is an amazing Halloween idea! Buttercup, heh :) That should be a lot of fun for you guys… *jealous* Haha, no, it's cool, I'm just thrilled and honored to have inspired such awesomeness :P. Whoo, good guess on the villain! But, no answers from me, though I'm dying to give 'em…

Deeply concerned: Thanks! :) Don't worry, I will, this story is for all of you guys!

Brandy: Thanks for the song! I checked it out and yeah, it suits it well! especially a few of the lyrics into between the refrains ("Drowning conscience, I'm only human, Call me a traitor"):D Thanks for the tip! :)

Without further ado, the chapter. Enjoy if you can; flame if you can't! :P

* * *

Flashing lights. Shuffling cards. Warm desert breezes. Bustling crowds. Hookers a plenty. Extravagant hotels. Bleeps and beeps of slot machines.

Of course, world famous Sin City:

Las Vegas.

Bubbles cupped her chin in her hands, elbows on the window sill as she stared out of her hotel window at the hustle bustle of the city's renowned night life. It had barley grown dark and yet a very noticeable change had taken over The Strip. Every billboard glowed and glittered with electric lights, illuminating the finest hotels the world had to offer, themed in every era and style their extravagant owners could dream up. A castle, A pyramid, Paris, New York, forbidden Asian palace, pirates – you name it, they have it.

Bubbles half smiled at the crazy view below her. Never having been to Vegas before, she was a little excited.

Earlier that evening, the Blues had flown in and, quite miraculously, booked a couple rooms at the well known Caesar's Palace. Granted, they weren't adjacent rooms, or even on the same floor – in fact Boomer was in a completely separate building, but considering that it was a Saturday, a last minute booking and an extremely popular hotel, it was indeed no small feat.

Bubbles glanced at her watch. 7:25. She straightened and meandered over to the full length mirror on the wall staring blankly at her reflection, mulling over the past six days…

After questioning and poking around the outskirts of New York for two days, they had made a quick flight down to Philadelphia. As they were viewing the Liberty Bell, (which Bubbles had puppy dog eyed her way into getting Boomer to let her have fifteen minutes of tourism) the two had been forced to scurry behind Independence Hall to receive the word from Sherry of Blossom and Brick's chase scene in Switzerland. Urgency restored, the two had parted for Chicago, where upon arrival they had been informed of Buttercup and Butch's escapade and interaction with the quote-on-quote zombie child. After perusing the Windy City for a day and a half, they still found nothing even remotely along lines of their brothers and sisters. Denver had been fruitless as well, so, continuing their hop west, they had arrived in their current location.

With a little breath of exasperation, Bubbles turned from the mirror and finally wandered over to the edge of her bed and sat down, glancing impatiently at her watch. Boomer had phoned her twice. Once an hour and a half ago, to tell her to make a quick run to the casino's shops and get dressed to be undercover, and then again over twenty minutes ago, claiming he would come collect her at her room, but so far he hadn't.

A few minutes slipped by, and still no sign of Boomer. Bubbles tugged irritably on one of her side curls, which loosely framed her face. Tonight, she had abandoned her traditional, bust-length pig tails and pinned her hair up in an elegant bun, with several long curls stylishly detached. Also for the occasion, and on Boomer's command to "dress it up", she was wearing a mid-thigh white skirt, a form-hugging sky blue halter top, white pumps, and glittery earrings.

She wasn't sure where they were going, who they'd be with, or even if Boomer knew, but she was eager to find out and hit the town.

_Gosh darn it! He's a guy, how long does it take to get ready? Maybe he's doing something else…well, he could have the decency to give me a time…_

As if on cue, two sharp knocks sounded on the door. Bubbles leapt to her feet and opened the door quickly to be greeted by the sight of Boomer in grey distressed jeans, and an unbuttoned dark blue plaid shirt with a white t-shirt underneath. He blinked and gestured for her to come.

"Sorry I'm late, I was…arranging some matters."

The blue puff smiled a little wryly and she caught up to him.

"No prob."

They didn't speak again until they were securely alone in an elevator. Boomer broke the silence.

"So tonight we'll be continuing undercover,"

Continuing undercover. Ah. Codename for "pretending to be together."

Bubbles mentally winced a little, remembering the awkward conversation it had taken to arrange their story among themselves. But, in the end, it had been all they could think of. The most they had to do so far was hold hands, fortunately.

"You ever been to Las Vegas before?"

"No," she admitted.

Boomer shrugged.

"S'ok. Well, I can't guarantee anything, but I'm actually hoping for something here. Vegas is a party town, that's for sure, and it would have an attractive vibe for our sort of guy, I'd bet on it."

Bubbles couldn't help but giggle. Boomer threw her a confused glance, before backtracking his own words.

"Yeah, yeah, 'bet on it,'" he gave a lopsided grin at himself before shaking his head and getting back to business. Bubbles was momentarily distracted, realizing how much they had opened up since their first awkward day in New York. The elevator gave a soft ding to announce their arrival at the lobby, and all Boomer had time to do was fix her with a hard, focused look before the door slid open and their couple masquerade began.

She gave a forced giggle as the crowded lobby came into view. Together, they strode a bit over-confidently out onto the Strip. Bubbles' heels clicked rhythmically against the dirty sidewalk, wafts of music drifting from a variety of open air shows, bars, and clubs. Boomer wrapped his arm in hers, flashing her a cocky smirk and pulling her quickly down the street.

Bubbles's heart gave a little flutter as he entangled their hands, but she shoved it aside, giving a loud, giddy laugh, fitting to the situation of a young girl with money to blow, a hot boyfriend in tow, and the prospect of a wild night in Vegas.

_No! _she chided herself as they hurried down the busy walk, obviously heading for a destination that Boomer had clearly in mind. _No real emotions, Bubbles! Do it for show, do it for show…_

In a brief period of time that it had taken for Boomer to whisk them off the main track and in line to a club dubbed "Kryst.*" A stereotypical buff guard was standing at the door, examining the I.D.s of everyone who entered. Bubbles watched as he gave each card a through inspection before grudgingly letting the couples, trios, and small groups to pass.

A few people ahead of them were two slightly zitty, gangly teenaged guys in baggy clothes and dark beanies. They were slouched over, talked in soft voices, and looked a little nervous. As they reached the front of the line, they handed over their I.D.s like all the others, but the door guard barely gave them a second's glance before throwing them roughly back down at the young men.

"Fakes! Get your baby asses outta here and away from here as fast as you can, you hear? No one under 21 getting in here under my watch!" the muscular guard growled as the scrawny teens scrambled to get away from the much larger man.

"Well, do you think you could tell us what we did wrong so we can get it right next time?" called one of them from a bit of a safer distance.

The look on the doorman's face was answer enough.

"Come on!' snapped the apparently smarter of the two as he dragged his cocky friend away. The two broke into a sprint and quickly vanished from sight.

Boomer snickered loudly and gave her a nudge in the side.

"Look at them go, heh, kids,"

Bubbles smiled and nodded, but an instant knot of worry formed in her stomach.

_Uh…this might not be so great…21? I'm 15! Can I fake it well enough to fool Mr. Macho…? Gah, well, Boomer's an CIA agent, I'm sure he has top notch fake I.D.s…_

The moment of truth arrived a few seconds later. Boomer handed over two slips of plastic. Bubbles casually looked inside the open door of the club, strobe lights and loud music spilling out. She returned her head just in time to see the doorman give them a gruff nod of welcome before handing Boomer back the I.D.s. Bubbles smiled broadly in relief as her fake boyfriend led them into the chaotic scene.

An impressively large room greeted them, with an even more impressive crowd. Strobe lights illuminated the nightlife picture before them, making it a bit difficult to discern any single body in the writhing mass of dancers. In a corner was a stage where four or five scantily clad girls with copious amounts of makeup were strutting around, dancing and… Bubbles averted her eyes from the degradation of her sex and noticed that the back wall was entirely a bar, lined with stools.

From her previous imaginings, it appeared to just as the puff had predicated a Vegas party house to be, although she may have underestimated the volume of the music a bit…it was almost deafening.

Boomer released her hand and leaned in so he could speak and be heard.

"Wanna dance?" he asked in a mischievous tone, pulling back away from her face so she could see his dangerously quirked eyebrow and tousled blond hair…

To her irritation, Bubble's heart jumped again. _Nonono, no Bubbles, you did __not_ _find that sexy! Keep your head in the game! _

"You bet!" she smirked with her best attempt at seductive.

However, actually dancing on the floor was not how she imagined it. It smelled of intense human, mixed perfumes and colognes, and unfortunately, some people who had forgotten to wear deodorant. She had no more personal bubbles; people stepped on her toes, brushed against her everywhere. She had a hard time keeping with Boomer, who kept getting sucked into the mass, almost like it was a living organism in itself, digesting and mixing it's human food in a swirl of chaos and a dose of pounding music.

After a few minutes, they managed to untangle themselves and rejoin at the bar, a little more rumpled, but no worse for wear.

"Wow, intense!" murmured Bubbles, trying to be a little more discreet. The overwhelming-ness of it all had dampened a bit of her fake over confidence.

Boomer shrugged, leaning backwards against the counter on one elbow.

"Yup."

Bubbles perched herself up onto one of the stools and propped her chin on her hand thoughtfully. She fake pouted.

"Soooo…now what?"

Boomer rotated himself over to face behind the counter. He casually waved over one of the female bartenders.

"What can I get for ya, Sweetie?" she drawled, giving the ruff a not-so-secretive look over. If Boomer noticed, he ignored it.

"Rusty Nail." Expectantly, he turned to the blue puff. "And you, Babe?"

For an instant, she just stared into Boomer's dark blue orbs, terrified.

_What? I can't…ah! Drink name, drink name, come on, Bubbles, think!_

She was stuck. The only alcoholic beverage she could think of was wine, which the Professor occasionally indulged in when an experiment went particularly wrong or when Buttercup had been exceptionally difficult that day…but Bubbles knew red wine was not something one ordered at a club in Las Vegas!

But, she thought fast and covered up her ignorance as apathy.

"Don't care; you order for me."

Boomer cracked a bit of a smile.

"Depends on how drunk I want you?" he snickered playfully.

Bubbles' insides squirmed and she lost a moment staring blanking back at him, strobe lights flashing colors over his leering face. _Wow, uh, um, ah… Boomer, that was __dirty__…damn, didn't know he could be like that…_

But, thanks be, her inner flirty actress sped to the rescue while her shy, blushing self cowered inside.

"And don't you know it…," she purred, leaning a little closer to brush his messy bangs out of his eyes with gentle, trailing fingertips. To her revengeful pleasure, his eyes widened, but he recovered even faster than she had, and Bubbles knew that the bartender hadn't been close enough to observe the blonde's shock.

"Well, then we'll have White Russian for the little lady."

Their bartender gave her a disgruntled look. For (what she convinced herself was purely for) their under-cover story's sake, Bubbles let a possessive smirk slide onto her face that any female easily translated to be "_Good luck getting your hands on my man, Bitch"_

"Yeah, sure thing," said the miffed woman as she stalked off to make their drinks.

As Bubbles glanced at her retreating back, she briefly wondered if it had been such a fabulous idea to piss off the person who would be making their drinks…ergh, her drink? She couldn't drink alcohol! She was, what, six years under the drinking age? What on earth had Boomer ordered her anyway?

But these hindsightful thoughts were interrupted by Boomer making a surprise appearance in her ear again.

"I'm going to snoop," he murmured so softly, Bubbles barely heard him over the pounding music from the dance floor, "Stay n' watch."

Bubbles nodded and he walked off down the bar, paying and picking up his drink along the way and disappearing into the crowd. She readjusted herself on her stool, large blue eyes sweeping the floor. What was she supposed to be looking for anyway? Someone shaking in fear in the corner? A little Asian kid following people around with their personal information?

The loud sound of sliding glass on hardwood announced the arrival of her cocktail. Bubbles looked up from the glass to the bartender, who was already walking away again. The blonde shrugged with a smile, still humored by Boomer's utter ignorance of the other woman, before addressing the glass before her.

It was full of a pale drink with ice and a layer of off-white froth on top. Slowly, she wrapped her fingers around the frosty edges and brought it in front of her for closer inspection. Cold wafted off the top of the ice, creamy foam sloshed around the brim. With grim determination, she picked up the chilly cup and swiveled back around to face the hoard of party animals. She didn't have to drink it - Boomer would be back soon enough, hopefully with a tip, and she would conveniently forget it somewhere…

The seconds passed, the music blared on, and Bubbles couldn't catch a glimpse of her agent cohort. Her drink was losing its chill rapidly; the puff adjusted it to the other hand, holding it casually to the side as if she was sipping. She snuck a peak to her left and right. A few stools down, some women were having playing a sort of drinking game with shot glasses of brown liquid. None of them appeared to be too drunk yet, but they were all laughing their heads off and having the time of their lives. On her other side, a young couple who were clearly intoxicated were making out heavily and running their hands all over each other. Bubbles grimaced a little and turned back in her seat, resting her glass once again on the polished wooden surface of the bar.

The ice cubes were smaller, the foamy layer on top had begun to disappear, and her fingerprints covered the sides of the glass. Fingerprints on the glass…her fingerprints…claiming the drink as hers. It was an inescapable jump of logic that Bubbles felt a little sick reflecting upon. _How do I get myself in situations like this?...Wonder how much alcohol is in a mixed drink like this…_

Almost subconsciously, but not quite, she raised the brim of her glass to her lips. _How does it smell…_ The glass lip clinked gently against her teeth, and the smell of cream and liquor hit her nostrils. She had already guessed it had dairy in it, but really? When she thought alcohol, she thought…strong and sharp tastes, not dairy…_how odd, I wonder who thought of it._

…_I wonder how it tastes? Oh nonono, those are bad thoughts to have; I'm far too young! Too young to be here too…_

She shifted her grip, and the melting ice cubes tinkled around. So innocent looking…it was probably mostly cream anyway. Boomer ordered it for her, so he wouldn't have gotten her something full of alcohol anyway.

Cautiously, experimentally, she took a tiny, delicate sip. At first, the nip she had taken was so small she couldn't taste anything. Then, a creamy flavor, a bit of coffee and finally a strong, bitter bite in the back of her throat as she swallowed. She swallowed once more in surprise and the tingling prick eased a little.

She lifted her gaze back out to the crowd, feeling shame, guilt, and…pride. Granted, she had promised herself she wouldn't drink it…but it's not like she was getting drunk or anything! And it was good to blend with the crowd…and, well! She was in a club in Las Vegas, on a secret mission to save the world! She could handle a little creamy drink!

Still slowly, she raised the glass to her lips again and took a bit larger mouthful. The after taste was a bit stronger, but so was the creamy coffee flavor. Bubbles deemed it passable, actually rather tasty, but she wouldn't drink all of it. It was still an alcoholic beverage, and she didn't feel comfortable with the idea of drinking the whole thing. Just a few sips here and there to blend with the crowd, to be a chameleon…

She returned her attention to the surrounding areas. She swore, if they ever finally solved this case, it would take an entire lifetime to break the habit she was forming to constantly search for oddities amongst people. Grimly, she took another drink, larger than the precedent two, almost qualifying as a swig.

Where was Boomer? Had he found something? Was he working his way back to her? Should she sit still and wait, continuing her duty as a look-out? Or maybe his absence was a signal she should get up and find him. Almost on reflex now, she took another swallow, the contradictory sweet and spiked flavors mingling deliciously.

A few more minutes passed…or was it more? The puff couldn't quite remember. Another sip of…this White Russian. Yeah, White Russian, that's what it was called. Man, it sure was good...not too much left though. Bummer.

She pouted at her more than half empty cup, before rolling her eyes and looking at the shiny rainbow colors of the strobe lights, blinking a little distractedly, when a male voice took her by surprise.

"Hey there, Beautiful."

She turned her head so fast, she almost fell off her stool. Now looking a bit more tousled, Boomer stood before her with just a trace of a smile. He gulped down the last of his dark brown drink before slamming his cup loudly onto the bar counter.

"He-ey," she trilled in a sing-songy voice, happy to have finally found him.

"Let's go, I got a text from a pal for us to meet him down the street."

_A text from a pal…OH he meant a tip to check out some other place, yay! A clue in the case! Or maybe just another dead end, as always…ups and downs, this case had so many…nothing could be counted upon._

"Ok, let's hit this party!" she crowed.

_Finish off this…drink, or, yeah, let's do that…_

She drained the last contents of the glass in a large gulp, and the after burn of the alcohol was stronger than ever. Her baby blue eyes widened as her throat burned and she shook her head once in shock.

"Woo!" she coughed.

Boomer gave her a slightly concerned look, but quickly covered it with a short, fake laugh. He grabbed her wrist and tugged her away, wrapping his arm protectively around her shoulders to led her out. Bubbles followed happily enough, and instantly felt her head clear a little as they reentered the cool night air.

"So whadya find?" she murmured into his ear as soon as they were away from the crowd at the door.

Boomer's furtive glance and little half shrug told her more than his words did.

"Checking up on little birds..."

"Mm, ok," she sighed.

_He smells nice…yeah, like guy cologne and clean shirt…_

* * *

Cautiously, Boomer steered his tipsy counterpart into the new club.

"There ya go, Baby," he said gently as she settled herself on the floor, a little off-balanced, in a corner next to the bathrooms.

In reality, he was thinking: _did she __seriously__ just go and get herself __tipsy__ while they were __undercover__ scouting around?_

But, if he was to be honest with himself, he wasn't truly mad at her. He was mad at himself. Because…damn it all, he had up and got her drink, _geez, smooth move there, Boomer! _She obviously didn't know how to handle it. But then again, how was he supposed to know she had zero alcohol tolerance?

He mentally facepalmed. Life hated him. It was the only possible excuse for his constant…bumblings! His entire existence was filled with, even created by these types idiotic blunders! GNAH!

But, even though on the inside he was ripping his hair out, he had to have the self control to get it together…_pull yourself together, go question the people, and - you know what, screw this, I need another drink._

With hurried, reassuring words to the dazed Bubbles, he parted her company again and brushed his way through the crowd to the bar. Still feeling moody, he propped himself up on his elbows and swept the room with his gaze.

Pretty much the same aspects of their last location - dance floor, flashing lights, drink bar, strip stage, deafening music, - except with a more dangerous air. Graffiti was the only decoration, the party animals looked meaner, and there were far more drinks floating around.

"Can I get you something?"

Boomer turned around to face a grisly looking bartender.

"Vodka Martini."

"Shaken not stirred?" chuckled the man.

Boomer rolled his eyes, but faked a smirk for pleasantry's sake.

"Yeah, sure."

He left to make his drink, and Boomer thought back to the words of the man he had spoken to earlier. He was most obviously a crack head, but there was something in his words, in the way he spoke that made Boomer think he spoke a scrap of truth. Perhaps even he had been using the drugs to escape whatever horrors he may have seen.

_"No, no, not again, don't let her near me again," the filthy man whimpered, curling into a tighter ball on the floor of the men's bathroom. Boomer knelt down on one knee to look the miserable human in the eye._

_"Who?" he asked firmly._

_"I don't know, I don't know, but…she made me…I saw THINGS…horrible things, I couldn't sleep for DAYS…__she was in my head__…" the man shrieked, now flailing his arms to emphasis his words._

_"Where did you see her?" Boomer questioned, willing to go on anything the man had to offer. It was better than nothing._

_"Down the street, man, down the street, Starry Vixen…don't go! Man, you don't wanna…"_

_"When, can you tell me when you saw her?"_

_But the man just shook his head a mumbled something about needing more money to get high. Boomer sensed that was all he was going to get out of this scum bag, got up, and walked out of the dimly lit bathroom to find Bubbles. This just might be the break they were looking for…_

His martini arrived with a snicker.

"There ya go, 007, heh heh,"

Ironic. If only this man knew…

Suddenly, the thought of tipsy, judgment impaired Bubbles slumped in her shadowy corner hit him and he bumped past the dirty dancing couples to get back to her, not really worried though…she had only drunk a little, just enough to make her giggly, well, more than usual. But still, best not to leave her for too long.

She was right where he had left her, but looking a little miffed.

"Hey," he greeted her.

She turned the pout on.

"Stop leaving me alone, telling me to stay put. I'm bored here, can't I go somewhere?"

"Ok, ok, fine. Um, here, come on."

He switched his drink to his other hand, pulled her to her feet, and closer to himself. In a hushed tone, he murmured into her ear.

"Go, look around. You know what to look for. Find anything, anyone, come find me, got it?"

Bubbles nodded a bit too happily. For a second, Boomer considered taking it back. No, not a good idea to send her off in this state, but…nah, she'll be fine. It wouldn't take more than ten minutes to locate and talk to all the people he was interested in. What kind of trouble could she get herself into?

"Ok, go."

They parted and went their respective ways, and once again Boomer was focused on the mission at hand.

* * *

_Phew, it's hot in here! Man…_

She had wandered the front of the club for a few minutes now, and had no results.

_Hmmm….if I was a psychotic mass murderer victim, where would I hide…_

Contemplatively, she perched on the end stool, chewing on her bottom lip in concentration…

"Yo, little lady, something I can get for ya?"

_Oh whoa, when'd that dude get there? Ninja people 'round here, shesh!_

"Oh, I, ah…nooo, no, I'm good…"

_Probably shouldn't…I already had one! Wasn't I not supposed to have one in the first place…?_

"Ya sure? Cuz then you'll have to get up, these seats are for people who bought drinks."

"Oh, ok, fiiinee…"

"Well?"

"Oh, yeah, I'll have a…I don't know what it was called…"

"…"

"Could you pick one for me? I'm sure you know a great one, right?"

"…sure thing, sweetheart…"

"Oh, thanks so much, you're awesome!"

_Whadda nice guy…_

Just a few seconds later it seemed…possibly a minutes though, Bubbles forgot…the man came back with a pink drink in a pretty glass.

"Cosmopolitan for ya,"

"Sweet, thanks…it's so pink!"

"Yes, it is."

"Oh, I'll pay when my boyfriend gets back…don't worry, he'll come find me soon. Maybe you saw him! He's blonde, blue eyes, really hot, blue plaid over-shirt…"

"I - oh, fine, sure."

"Aw, thanks a bunch!"

_Hm, very pink! Like Blossom! Wonder how this tastes…_

* * *

Boomer had scoured the club from the bathrooms to the front doors. None of the druggies or regulars had a clue what he was talking about.

_Yet another dead end…but, it's been ten minutes, so let's go get Bubbles._

He discarded his glass on the counter, but as he turned to walk away, a gruff voice stopped him.

"Hey, 007!"

With an internal groan, the blue ruff turned to face his new bartender friend.

"Yeah?"

"Looking for your girlfriend? She bought a drink and said you would pay, so, would you mind, please?"

_Oh dear God, no, did he just say - did she, MAN!_

"She bought a drink?" he repeated.

"Yeah, Cosmo. She had no idea what to get, but most ladies like it, so," the man trailed off, finally seeing the frustration behind the ruff's words. Boomer fished out some cash.

"Fine, here's the money."

"Ok. She went off to the dance floor, by the way."

"Thanks."

He shoved his way through the dancers, looking around frantically for blonde curls. He found her in the middle off the pack, nodding her head to the beat, curly golden locks flying around her face, large blue eyes clouded with alcohol and lips parted in a small smile.

For an embarrassing second, he was hypnotized by the bright colors flashing over her swaying form. Originally, she had been jostled and trampled in the dance crowd, but a few drinks had loosened her up and now she was lost in the music, the lights, the night…

Boomer blinked, regained his senses, reached out and grabbed her shoulder. She jumped, her half-lidded eyes springing open in shock, but after a moment, she recognized him and gave him a wide smile.

"Boomie!" she giggled, jumping at him and wrapping her arms around his neck. The boy fell back a step, taken by surprise. She was awfully close, he could see each eyelash, smell the alcohol on her breath…and whoa, damn, she just used his name!

"Hey, Baby, we need, to, uh…" desperately, he tried to pry her from him, unable to focus with her face so close to his. She let go with a twittering laugh, instead grabbing his hand and pulling him further into the dancing madness.

"Soooooo…" she hiccupped, "whadda ya find mister secretive, hmm?"

This was not good. Not good. Red alert. She was loose canon with her words, they had to leave, and now.

_Why did she have to be inexperienced?_

He grabbed her shoulder again and whirled her around to face him. Realizing she was far beyond subtle hinting, he titled her ear to his mouth.

"Bubbles. We need to go. Now."

Without giving her chance to protest or worse, he grabbed her hand and practically dragged her out of the club, and into the cooler night air.

Once they had escaped, Bubbles seemed to droop, and he was forced to wrap an arm around her waist to keep her standing. Desperately, he tried to ignore how good her small body felt pressed next to his…

_Really, Boomer? REALLY? Focus here, gotta get her back. Get her back and away from me, I have to stop thinking like that…_

But right now, Bubbles didn't seem at all concerned with getting back.

"Can we, can we go gamble?" she asked, iridescent blue eyes sparkling in the street lights.

"No, I don't think that would be a good idea…" he murmured as she stumbled and he had to readjust his grip.

"Aw, really? Why not?"

"Because…you're drunk." Boomer mumbled, giving up on hiding the truth, even though the words felt a little odd coming out. Of all people, he hadn't thought he'd need to say that to Bubbles, his sweet innocent counterpart…

"Really? I don't know…but you know? You're really hot…" she laughed a little too loudly. Boomer felt heat rise to his cheeks.

"Uh…thanks?"

_She's drunk, she's drunk, she doesn't know what she's saying…_

"Yeah, your smile. I like your smile…the real one. Not the fake one. I don't know how people ever believe you fake one. Cuz if they ever saw your re-al smile, they couldn't forget it. It's so…beautiful, it's natural. Like... organic, ya know?"

"…my smile is…organic?"

" HAHAHA yeah, like…it was made perfect and…hey, those billboards, do they look alive to you?"

"No."

Boomer shook his head in wonder at the powers of alcohol.

Together, they slowly made their way back to the hotel. A glance at the large clock in the lobby told him it was 11:43. Late enough, thank heaven, that they wouldn't be noticed in particular.

He deposited her in her room, assuring her that she really did need to lie down, before heading back down to the lobby. He had been planning on checking out the gambling tables with a fake date but he guessed now he'd have to do it alone…

* * *

First point of notice: She had a pounding headache. Bubbles was wondering why someone was manually trying to spilt her head with a blunt axe.

Second point of notice: Light HURTS. So, she closed her eyes, wondering why the glorious morning sun which she usually loved, was so intent on harming her.

Third point of notice: She was starving. When was the last time she ate…?

Fourth point of notice: She was still in her clothes from last night.

Question: What on earth had happened to her last night?

And there, she hit a black wall. Bubbles was stumped. Slowly, carefully, she rose off the bed she had been laying spread eagle on, stumbling blindly over to close the curtains which were the source of the horribly painful light.

Now shrouded in darkness, she could open her eyes again, but slowly, so slowly. Ah, her head hurt! So bad!

She spotted her white heels placed neatly in a corner by her door, but other than that her room looked the same as it had last night before Boomer picked her up…

Her eyes widened in realization as scattered scenes and details jumped back at her.

_Impatiently waiting for Boomer to arrive, his honest smile in the elevator, their hands entangling._

_The scrawny teenagers scampering away from the club, the horribly loud music, the smell of crowded human._

_The chill of cold glass against her fingertips, it's creamy scent, sharp prick in her throat._

_Flashing lights. Hardwood surface. A light buzzing in her head._

_"…text from a pal…"_

_Pink. Very pink._

_Beats of the music pounding in her body, her very essence, her soul…_

_organic…smile?_

"Oh SHIT!" Bubbles screeched, instantly regretting it as the words seemed to spilt her skull in half. She sank onto the edge of the bed, one hand over her mouth and she realized…she had a hangover. Because she had been drunk.

"Oh no," she moaned, shaking her head slowly.

_Did I ruin the mission? Did I do something horribly embarrassing?_

After the initial shock had worn off, she lifted her head and spotted something that hadn't been on the table last night. A note and a slowly cooling box of Chinese take out and a few orange pills. A quick peek revealed it to be some soup.

Bubbles unfolded the slip of paper and squinted to focus on the words.

_"Hey,_

_Hope you're feeling better. I came over but you were still asleep. I bet you're a bit hungover, so I brought you some painkillers and some hot n' sour soup. Trust me, it helps._

_I'll call you later. Rest for now. :)_

_-B"_

Despite her massive headache and other symptoms, Bubbles felt a small smile twitch uncontrollably over her lips. He was just so…sweet. Getting drunk last night on a mission, and he still went out of his way to be nice. It was moments like these that made Bubbles giddy with hope that she and her counterpart could be good friends.

With a sigh of relief and a silent, sincere thanks to Boomer, she dug into his offerings.

* * *

*Kryst - Tryst is the name of an actual club in Vegas, but I just tweaked a letter…never been (to any club for that matter, I'm only 15 too!) so, it was just for originality and believability's sake.

Wowow! Got ourselves a bit (cough a lot cough) of Blue-mance, hmmm? :D And a lot of POV changes…hope it wasn't confusing!

I like breaking the stereotypical, shallowness that surrounds the PPG, because I believe that Bubbles has a naughty side, one that can convince herself to drink! And I see the same sort of mostly unexplored character quirks in all the girls, and hopefully in this story I'll succeed in playing around with all of them.

Note on Boomer and his drinking habits/abilities to any people who wonder: By no stretch of the imagination would I say he is an alcoholic, but he has been raised rough n' tough, and often works on his own in dangerous, criminal situations, so I'd say it is perfectly reasonable for him to stomach a few hard core drinks.

**WARNING**: To all of my readers, especially people without accounts or who have not alerted/favorited the story! ::: After much thought, and helpful words from my reviewers, I have decided upon a new name for my story, one that pleases me more :) - " Clouded Minds; Fractured Souls" - I'd hate for anyone to lose the story in the depths of fanfiction because I changed the title on you without warning, so, this is a notice that by the next chapter, I will have changed the title to, once again, "Clouded Minds; Fractured Souls"

Reviews are yummy! Brick and Blossom need them to pret for…well, you'll have to wait for the next chapter to see!


	17. Chapter 16: Satan's Secrets

Hellooooooo!

Love you all so much, you and your wonderful reviews :D Sorry if I haven't responded to you yet . I've been crazy busy, and getting this chapter out itself was a trial…but I wanted you guys to know you all are so amazing and encouraging and this story is for you, my reviewers!

P.S. This chapter was a plot bunny that inspired me write this entire story, so…if you were wondering how it all got started…this is why.

00oo00oo00oo

Blossom glared at him with fury unmatched by anything hell had to offer. Coolly, Brick glanced up at her seething form, shrugged, and flopped stylishly into a low armchair by the window-front of the store.

"You. Have. Got. To be KIDDING me!" Blossom snarled through her teeth at the boy, who affected a bored air, casually avoiding her eyes as he flicked a piece of lint from his chair.

"Nope. And arguing will be a lost cause with the lack of bargaining chips you have. So, run along," he flicked his hand towards the dressing rooms, motioning for her to hurry up and get over there.

Blossom inhaled deeply through her nose, gave him one last stormy look, and stomped away, her arms full of ruffling ball gowns of varying colors and styles.

_He has got some nerve… _Blossom fumed to herself as she roughly yanked the curtain around the small area. Swiftly, and still not believing herself for going through with this degrading, humiliating act, she tore off her street clothes and slipped into a one of the gowns: a white, strapless, knee length dress with a few glossy pearls adorning the neckline.

The redhead turned to examine herself in the full length mirror propped in the corner. It looked okay, she had to admit, but more for a wedding, not Mafia party material, at least in her opinion.

Not that hers mattered at the moment. Because Brick was so pig-headed and rude as to declare he had to approve her attire, because he was the high and almighty CIA/Mafia self-proclaimed lord of formal wear. Hmph. She didn't need undercover experience to pick out a fancy dress!

Setting her mouth in a grim line of defiance, she pulled back the curtain and approached her counterpart, bare feet soundless against the plush carpet of the high-end Italian designer store.

Brick swept his eyes over her before twirling his finger in the air for her to spin. Blossom gave him a glare that would make small children cry, but complied. The other redhead shook his head slowly.

"No, I don't think so, you're not a bridesmaid."

"I know! That's what I thought, so can't I just pick out my own dress if I know what to get?"

"No, I can't have you showing up in some ridiculous pink tutu, so just hurry up and try on the others, okay?"

_Ugh, remain calm, remain calm…_

"There's nothing wrong with pink," she huffed quietly as returned to the little room.

"Yes, there is. It's not a great color for our group," Brick called after her. Damn super hearing.

The next gown was long sleeved, dark purple, with a modest neckline and a flowing skirt. Blossom frowned at her reflection, remembering that Buttercup looked great in this color…but Buttercup always preferred green, and would never have been caught dead in a dress…

Blossom blinked quickly, trying not to let her mind linger to long over her sisters. She didn't have time for distractions like homesickness. Better to focus on her relentless hatred of Brick for everything he had ever put her through…

After a 360 view, Brick shook his head once again before throwing his legs over one arm of his chair and leaning his head against the back of the other.

"Nah. Too…nah."

Blossom rolled her eyes and headed back. Did he fancy himself a fashion judge or what? Ten minutes later, a forest green and a royal blue gown shot down, Blossom had about had it with her partner. She wasn't going to model dresses for him all evening! Already, the giant orange sun was sinking towards the warm waters of the Mediterranean, flooding the westward facing store with warm golden light.

For the fifth time, Blossom stepped out in a new gown. This was a blood red, curve hugging dress that slacked at the hip into an full length skirt with a long slit running all the way up her upper thigh. A tad self consciously, the generally modest puff tugged a little at the deep v-neck.

_Good grief, this looks like a Miss Scarlet dress from that game "Clue"…all I need is a cigarette holder…_

Brick cocked his head to the side as he examined the latest fashion statement, the dying light of the sun making his flaming red hair glow. He pursed his lips, adopting a meditative gaze.

Blossom crossed her bare arms impatiently, tired of being his little dress-up Barbie.

"And…"

"It'll do. Get changed, let's pay."

Without another word he popped out of his chair and strolled languidly over to the counter.

_Of course he would choose the __red__ devil dress. What else did I expect?_

They paid quickly and left, with only Brick exchanging a few words with the clerk as he bagged their purchase.

Blossom could pick up on a few phrases, but only because it was similar enough to French, which she did speak. Bubbles had always had the knack for languages…she had just been born with Spanish, and she breezed through any other language she encountered with natural ability…but that hadn't stopped the pink puff from breaking her back to learn French. For a brief second, Blossom wondered if Boomer shared her 'younger' sister's inborn talent for languages…

There she went again, thinking of home. _Focus, Girl…_

The Reds exited and began to stroll down the wide sidewalks of the exclusive Sicilian beach town, and all the while Blossom maintained a seething glare for her counterpart, holding a grudge from his bossiness in the store. Brick kept his complacent brown eyes on the sky, his hands shoved deep in his pockets, blatantly ignoring her.

But after a minute or so, he broke the stillness between them.

"Smile, will ya please? We gotta fake the couple act while we are here. No way we can pass as just buddies if we go dress shopping together," he commented softly, still gazing serenely at the setting sun.

Blossom's glower twisted into a half-sneer.

"No need for that until tomorrow night. For now we'll just say you're my gay best friend."

Brick snapped his head around to glower, but she just smiled sweetly.

_Ah, revenge…_

The teenaged boy huffed a little and the two continued to amble slowly and in frigid silence back towards their hotel. They were about a block away when Brick abruptly braked in front of a little bakery, which was about to close for the night. Blossom also stopped and gave him a questioning look. He shrugged and gestured inside.

"I'm hungry…" he admitted.

"Fine."

They bought the baker's last two rolls before he hurried them out so he could lock up and go home. Now eating their dinner, the two meandered back, but before parting at their respective doors, Brick once again spoke up.

"Ah, shoes. I'm pretty sure you don't have shoes?"

Blossom eternally cursed herself. She was the girl, shouldn't she remember these things?

"Uh, no, I don't. I can get them tomorrow."

Brick nodded and turned to open his door with his key card.

"Fine. We'll meet here at 5:30."

Blossom paused, her door already open with one foot inside.

"That early?"

Brick, who had already disappeared into his room stopped the door from closing and stuck his head back out.

"First, we have to drive. And dinner's at around 7:00 ish."

She nodded and the two stepped into their rooms and closed the doors without a good bye or good night.

Blossom slept in the next morning, or at least by mission standards. She didn't get out of bed until 9:00 and didn't leave her room until 10:00. But, hey, who could stop her? Her "date" with Brick was at 4:30, and they had been working around the clock for five days now. A girl deserved her rest.

This hotel was on the nicer side and came with a complimentary breakfast in the lobby. She was tempted by the cinnamon rolls, but to her displeasure, weren't as tasty as the smelled, so she also downed some toast and strong Italian roast coffee. Generally, Blossom wasn't a coffee person, but when in Rome, do as the Romans do…

They had skipped Rome, Blossom mused unhappily. First time in Europe and she couldn't see any of her favorite historical sights…But, then again, when she had planned to go Europe, she hadn't bargained for a covert government assignment to save the world…

She finally snapped herself out of her thoughts, threw away her empty paper plates, and strolled confidently out of the hotel doors at 10:20, before coming to an abrupt halt right outside the revolving doors – money. She could buy no shoes with no money. Especially in Europe, where prices where so high…

_Damn it! How did we __both__ forget about money? We're supposed to be the responsible, eldest ones, the leaders! Argh, now I'll have to find him…what if he's not in his room? He could be anywhere!_

With a sigh of exasperation, Blossom turned on her heel and walked back in, ignoring the few looks she got for her out-and-back-in routine with the spinning doors.

A soft ping announced the elevators arrival back to the second floor. Blossom trooped past a multitude of doors until arriving at her and Brick's adjacent rooms. Without much hesitation, she rapped twice on the wooden barrier.

No answer.

After a few seconds of silence, she knocked again, still to receive the same – no response. Blossom pursed her lips and let out a slow breath threw her nose. Life just hated her, didn't it?

Very slowly, she turned back around, lost in thought, staring at the décor-less white wall on the other side. _Now where to?_

At that exact moment, the door next to her opened. Her door. To her room. Startled, Blossom faced the exiting figure to see that it was –

"Brick?"

Said chemical X-being looked up, brown eyes wide. For a spilt moment, they stayed that way, staring blankly into each other's fake eyes, processing two different items of information, before exploding.

"Why were you in my room? How'd you get in there?"

"Have you lost your senses?"

As Brick spoke, he crossed the few feet between them, wrapped his long fingers around her wrist and yanked her back into her room, the door slamming shut behind them with a large whoosh of air.

With a jerk, the puff freed herself from his grip but he continued to observe her, incredulous and disgusted.

"Of all places, here?" he growled in a low voice, clasping his forehead and bangs in disbelief, "You chose, here to up and scream my name? We can only hope that no old time locals were around to hear you! Some of the more knowledgeable can connect my name with the family!"

Momentarily, Blossom was distracted from her distraught thoughts of Brick in her room. _Oh shit! Oh, man, this is __not__ my day…_ But after a moment's reflection, the redhead managed to look past this unfortunate detail and refocused on her righteous indignation.

"The hallway was empty. This is a hotel for tourists. Take a chill pill, and don't worry, I'll make sure it doesn't happen again."

Brick bristled at her breezy blow-by of her identity slip, but Blossom didn't miss a beat as she continued her rant.

"But, you, sir," she taunted, sarcasm drenching the word, "should probably explain why you just happened to be in my room! You don't even have a key!"

Her counterpart was still clearly upset at her for shrieking his name in the hall, but now cockily shrugged at this accusation.

"Hey, they don't make you a secret agent for nothing: who needs keys?"

Blossom opened her mouth to retort as to how this gave him no excuse to invade her privacy, but he cut her off.

"AND, as I was about to say before you went and broke all the rules about being undercover, ahem," he resumed a glare, "I was looking for you. To give you this."

He quickly produced out of his back pocket the slip of plastic they had been living off for the past week: the limitless credit card. The pink puff took if from his outstretched hand, finally remembering her original reason to look for Brick.

"Ah, oh," she stuttered for a second. Her male partner of course noticed of her brief distraction, but even as the mocking sneer began to form on his lips, she resumed her anger, but not before she had hastily tucked the card into her front pocket.

"But!" she continued, "No sneaking in my room! That's inexcusable! What if – what if I HAD been there, doing God knows what?"

Brick's half formed smirk broke out into a full-blown evil grin.

"Blossom, just what do you do in your room?'

"You sicko! What's your problem? Get out of here!"

Furious, Blossom shoved his shoulder out the door, gritting her teeth in anger. Brick snorted in laughter at her response, but didn't resist as he stumbled out. She slammed the door behind him, fuming.

But, now she was trapped in her room. For the moment. She waited, ear to the door, listening to Brick shuffle away, still sniggering. Jerk. Twisting her words like that.

1, 2, 3, 4…she held her breath. No more footsteps, even using her super hearing. Deeming the coast clear, she stepped out of her room for the second time that day. To her relief, Brick was no where to be seen, and she continued on her morning's mini mission to buy shoes for that evening.

A few hours later found the redheaded teen examining herself in a mirror, once again in her hotel room. She had already donned the sleek red dress and was turning at odd angles to glare at the amount of creamy pale skin she was showing. _(Damn you, Brick, you are __such__ a guy!)_ Her brand new, three inch heels matched the shade of her dress, and her hair was piled in an elegant half bun with several curled strands hanging loose and framing her face. She wore minimal makeup and her icy blue contacts. With a final glare at her primped reflection, Blossom sighed and relaxed on the edge of her bed, swinging her long legs off the edge. In a few short minutes, she'd grab her neatly packed bag, which was waiting by the door, and join Brick on their way out to the car. But for now, she could relax and mentally prepare herself for this evening's…activities.

Two loud knocks on the door shattered her train of thought.

A little startled, she stood up as quickly as her blasted heels would allow and went to answer it, already knowing who it would be. Indeed, Brick stood in front of her room. For a second, neither spoke, just absorbed the other's get-up.

He was wearing a jet black tuxedo, which made for some reason amused her more than it should. The coat was carelessly unbuttoned, revealing his untucked white dress shirt and slightly loosened dark red tie, which matched the shade of her dress. His hands were shoved languidly into his pants pockets, a frozen mask of blankness on his face, his ever-present cap (insert Blossom's mental eye roll), and…

The puff blinked as she met his blood red stare, completely distracted by his intense irises. She hadn't seen his eyes in…a week. For an extra moment, they maintained a steady staring contest, before Blossom began to speak.

"Why aren't you – "

"Take yours off," he stated evenly, still not removing his brilliant red eyes from her face.

"But – "

"Tonight, we are ourselves. No hiding in the family."

Finally, Blossom managed to rip her gaze from his intoxicating glare and abandoned him in the doorway to pluck her colored lenses from her eyes and place them in the little protective container. Her companion stopped the door from slamming in his face with his hand, waiting silently for her to return.

She did, bright pink eyes visible. Brick nodded shortly and turned to leave, but, still wondering, Blossom stopped him with her voice.

"But the people in the lobby?"

"We're not coming back here," he reminded her.

Blossom scooped up her worn pink backpack, a bizarre accompaniment for her current outfit, and took off after her already retreating counterpart, his black pack in hand as well. Her mouth twitched as she stared at the back of his head, fed up with his grumpy, mysterious air.

"What's with the hat? Tell me you aren't going to wear that ratty thing with a tux."

Brick swiveled on his heel, facing her while walking backwards down the deserted hallway, and tugged defensively on said hat, his face contorted grumpily.

"That hat stays. What excuse do you have for the bow?"

Blossom's pink eyes narrowed in irritation, and she reached up to touch the small, velvet bow which fastened her copper hair on the top of her head.

"Bow's can be classy. And I was born with it…it feels wrong without it."

Brick once again swung on his heel to face the direction he was moving.

"What, you think I wasn't born with mine? You thought I had time to accessorize before running off to beat you to a pulp?"

He threw a wicked grin over his shoulder before mashing the elevator button. Blossom felt her hackles rise and a dark look swept over her countenance. She arrived next to him in a few steps and crossed her arms over her chest.

"Let's not forget who won that battle, though?"

Brick's glee melted and he fixed her with displeased look. A pause of glares occurred before he responded.

"Pfft."

His hand drifted up to his face, unconsciously rubbing at his cheek, as if he still felt the scalding burn.

Blossom smirked a little and turned away as the elevator doors slid open with a ping. They descended in contemplative silence, before they strutted out of the lobby in style to the white sports car. They tossed their bags in the back and piled into the car in their customary positions: Brick, driver's seat. Blossom, shotgun.

"'Bout an hour and a half drive to the mansion," he mumbled as the smooth motor purred to life. Blossom instantaneously did the math in her head. They would arrive around 6:00. She nodded and crossed her legs, propping her face up on her chin and staring out the window.

Blossom spoke back up, a question that had been buzzing in the back of her mind finally having a chance to resurface. Even if he refused to answer, quarreling with him would keep her occupied.

"How do both the CIA and the Mafia tolerate you as a duel member?"

"None of your business," snapped said dual member.

"I should think it is, especially if you want me to act correctly tonight and not blow whatever fairytale you're selling," Blossom huffed.

Brick sighed, exasperated.

"You're not going to let this drop, are you?"

She shook her head defiantly.

"Nope."

The redhead removed one hand from the steering wheel to pinch the bridge of his nose.

"Fine. If you insist, you highness," he grimaced, "I originally went in with the CIA as a double agent. But of course, secrets like that don't last long in the 'family.' So the Mafia think that the CIA think that I am a double agent that is actually a triple agent, a.k.a., loyal to the 'family.' While the CIA know that, in reality, I'm a…quadruple agent I guess…complicated enough for you, Pinky?"

Blossom literally had to sit in silence for a few seconds, picking apart his words to understand what he meant.

"So…you pretend to the Mafia that your true loyalty is to them, and that you are a double agent for the 'family'?"

"Yes."

"But actually, you work for the CIA as a double agent."

"Yes.

"What a headache."

Brick didn't bother responding, and Blossom assumed it was because he secretly agreed with her.

Time passed. They continued to hug the coast of Sicily as Brick drove south. The gorgeous beaches and cliffs were absolute stunning to watch in the warm, late afternoon sun, but after an hour, the enchanting scenery no longer kept her attention.

She shifted in her seat to face forwards once again. Brick didn't spare her a glance, dark crimson eyes set on the winding road ahead. Discreetly, Blossom observed him with a sidelong glance. Seeing his eyes again…made her feel bizarre. She shouldn't care so much. What did it matter to her?

Why did it? Why did she feel lied to every time she saw him with brown orbs? It wasn't that she found brown eyes to be unattractive…especially the shade her counterpart sported, a light golden brown hazel.

But it just wasn't him; wasn't his true colors. And it irritated her. His bloody gaze revealed Brick as he exactly was – strong, dangerous, one-of-a-kind…and perhaps a bit alluring. The fire in his eyes drew stares and kept them, including his disgruntled counterpart's. There was no denying the passion, the intensity, the rage he truly felt, and all these were exposed in his unique, enthralling eye shade.

Finally realizing that she had just had an entire stupid mental rant in her head about Brick's stupid eyes, and that she had been staring stupidly the whole time, she had the decency to turn away and meditate on her stupidity.

Stupid Brick. Just keep your stupid face to yourself.

By the time they reached their destination though, she had gotten over her self humiliation and was all eyes for the magnificent building Brick parked in front of as if he lived there.

It was a towering fortress of a mansion, clinging to the edge of sheer cliff overlooking the ocean, large frothing waves pounding against the bare rock. A large archway led into an open air courtyard with strings of paper lanterns floating in the breeze above the well-manicured grass, tiny shrubs, and trailing pathways. A single tower with several windows faced the sea and the west ward sinking sun, which was again about ready to slip past the waters.

To the pink puff's mild surprise, Brick actually opened her car door for her. Blossom hopped daintily out, secretly pleased with herself for not tripping yet in her heels. She'd never had any good practice in Townsville, not being the type for such frivolous shoes.

As she stepped out, Brick held out his arm, and, flinching inwardly, she complied by linking arms. They exchanged an empty look, and Blossom took note that he was still taller than her, despite the shoes.

She half-gulped, knowing that she was only noticing such odd facts because…she was nervous. This was, after all, the infamous Sicilian Mafia, who kill as easily as they breathe. Not that that was really a problem for a super-powered being, but the legendary, reckless slaughter remained intimidating and uncomfortable.

Somehow, Brick realized her discomfort, and, for a reason unknown to her, decided to actually comfort her instead of growling to not mess up.

"It'll be okay," he murmured softly before leading them through the courtyard up to a set of huge, wooden doors which were already propped open and spilling out warm light and gentle chatter.

As the pair arrived at the open frame, they were met with the sight of a gargantuan stone room, lit by a giant chandler suspended from the ceiling. Couches formed a few sitting circles where a variety of well-dressed persons perched and conversed. Large paintings and tapestries covered the walls at regular intervals, a wide staircase in the back center of the room led up to an indoor balcony that circled, giving the few individuals who strolled up there the perfect bird's eye view

Pink eyes wide, a fake smirk of calm confidence pasted over her mouth, Blossom took in the lavish room with her heart pounding a bit faster than normal. Brick gave her arm the slightest of squeezes, but didn't make eye contact.

A few groups looked up at their entrance, many smiling broadly and calling out cheerful greetings to Brick, who waved back with a grin. A well-groomed man in a neat suit stood up quickly and hurried over to greet them, also smiling broadly. As he approached, Blossom could see the grey steaks in his long, slick black hair, and how his warm black eyes were surrounded by smile lines.

"Ahh, Brick, buona sera! Il mio amico, è stato troppo a lungo!" the man crowed, and Brick momentarily released his hold on Blossom to give the shorter man a firm handshake and a one-armed man hug.

("Ahh Brick, good evening! My friend, it has been too long!")

Brick stepped out of the embrace, still sporting a smile, which felt a bit out of place for Blossom, as when she was usually with him, they were irritating each other. The redheaded teen placed a hand on the older male's shoulder and wrapped the other around Blossom's. Bizarrely, this both made her feel more secure in this strange place and piss her off at how Brick was touching her so casually.

She didn't have to reflect on her mixed emotions, because she had to concentrate fully to even get an idea of what Brick was now saying.

"Buona sera a voi anche, Signor Ghirlandaio! Troppo lunga davvero. Ma lasciate che vi presento Blossom Utoniam. Sono sicuro che avete sentito su di lei. Era, diciamo, il modello Mojo nella creazione di me," Brick now tightened his grip a bit around her shoulders, tossing her too a smile, "Abbiamo recentemente…mettere da parte i nostri rivalità del passato."

("Good evening to you too, Mr Ghirlandaio! Too long indeed. But let me introduce you to Blossom Utoniam. I'm sure you've heard about her. She was, let's say, Mojo's model in originally creating me." "We've recently…put aside out past rivalry.")

Blossom smiled sweetly at the man, only understanding that this was Signor Ghirlandaio, that Brick had introduced her, and something about Mojo.

So, she was grateful when Signor Ghirlandaio turned to her with the same warm smile and began to speak in perfect English, with a gentle, lilting accent that was pleasing to hear.

"But of course, I know you, Ms. Utoniam! Your powers, skills in battle, and intellect are most famous, as are your sisters! And we are all most glad to have you in our company this evening with Signor Brick."

With this enthusiastic welcome, he gently took her hand in his, before placing two quick kisses to both of the puff's checks. Blossom smiled in return, recognizing the gesture as one of acceptance and friendship in most European countries.

"Thank you very much, Signor Ghirlandaio, your words are too kind, as is your gracious welcome to your family's home."

Apparently she had said something right because Signor Ghirlandaio's face brightened even more (if that was possible) and chuckled.

"She's as beautiful and smart as you say, Signor Brick. I would hold on tight to this gem of a girl!"

Brick chuckled in agreement along with his 'family' friend, but Blossom could just barely pick out the embarrassed twinge in his face. It was all she could do to keep from laughing at her counterpart.

Not only had he previously spoken about her, he had complimented her behind her back…and a teeny part of Blossom couldn't help but feel flattered at Brick and Signor Ghirlandaio's attention. Even if one was the most obnoxious, rude, arrogant boy she'd ever had the misfortune to meet and the other was a murderous criminal.

Suddenly, she felt less flattered.

"Ah, but you must join the rest of my family, we will be having dinner soon! If you excuse me for the moment, I have some matters to attend to…"

Signor Ghirlandaio's smile was apologetic and sincere, but Blossom couldn't help but wonder what dark and corrupted matters he was referring to.

The fake couple nodded and assured the Italian that they were capable by themselves. He apologized once more at his abrupt departure and walked quickly down one of the hallways leading away to a more shadowy part of the house.

Brick's smile deflated a little and gave Blossom a discreet, but odd look of mild annoyance and relief.

"I wasn't sure he was even going to be here; he's often busy. Signor Ghirlandaio is the head of the family, and has been for quite a while. At least by family standards. You've pleased him, so that's very good," he murmured as they wandered away.

Blossom blinked, a little caught off guard.

"The head? As in top of the heap? But…he was so…"

"Kind? Warm? Welcoming? Yes. But don't be thrown off by appearances, the man is capable of much…"

The way Brick trailed off made Blossom's insides tighten into a knot. Behind his mask of easy going happiness, she could spot dark experience and painful memories lurking. Not for the first time, she found herself wondering what Brick's deal with the Mafia was…but she had more than a sneaking suspicion that the warm comradery she had seen shown to Brick was pretty one sided. Deep down inside, she thought Brick secretly hated every second they were spending here…

But that was none of her concern. His personal suffering for the good of his assigned missions was not important at the moment, or to her. Right now, she needed to focus on behaving correctly in this shark tank of dangerous characters.

Brick led them to a man and a woman who were standing a few feet away, talking. He first greeted the both of them – a hand shake for the twenty something man, and a kiss on the hand for the gorgeous brunette girl in a shimmering black dress, who smiled slightly in response.

The redheaded teen exchanged a few words in Italian with the two, and although Blossom didn't understand much, she definitely noticed the difference in how he spoke friendlily to the good-looking man, and carefully to the young woman. He then introduced her again, and the focus was on her.

"But, yes, Ms. Utoniam!" the raven haired man exclaimed in English with a dazzling smile before planting two kisses on her checks, "I'm Giovanni Ghirlandaio, you have just met my uncle! It is a pleasure to meet you."

His accent also had a soothing lilt.

"Oh no, the pleasure is all mine, Signor Ghirlandaio," she responded smoothly, once again covering her nervousness with a large smile.

The criminal lord's nephew scoffed lightly and waved one hand in protest.

"Please, no, Ms. Utoniam, Signor Ghirlandaio is my uncle. My friends call me Giovanni, and you must also!"

Blossom chuckled softly.

"Oh, all right," she agreed, "If you call me Blossom."

He flashed her a set of pearly teeth.

"Deal, Blossom."

Here, the young woman interrupted them. But when she spoke, she smiled neither with her eyes or her mouth as the two previous Mafia members had consistently done. And, startlingly, her accent was not Italian, but Russian.

"Blossom Utonium. I see." she drawled, limply holding up a hand to shake. The two girls applied gentle pressure to the other's hand before dropping them.

"I am Vivia Dreeshaw."

That was it. No explanation, no greeting, no smile. Blossom managed to keep the corners of her mouth angled upwards to avoid seeming rude, even if the other was intent on making her feel uncomfortable.

"Nice to meet you," she managed, before, thanks be, Giovanni saved them from a staring contest.

"So, Blossom," he interjected smoothly, "Your normal residency is Townsville, correct?"

Grateful to return her attention to the pleasant Ghirlandaio, Blossom nodded.

"Yes."

"So, may I ask what brings you to Europe? Pleasure or work?"

_Oh, shiiii…uh, which does Brick want me to say?_

But, once again, she was saved by an interruption. Brick stepped back forward, protectively wrapping an arm around her waist, pulling her a bit closer. The puff's insides squirmed with rage and discomfort, but her gracious half-smile never faltered.

"A bit of both actually. I'm sure you understand," Brick chuckled and Giovanni nodded knowingly.

"But yes, it is hard to have just one or the other, no?"

Blossom glanced again at Vivia Dreeshaw, and, to her disturbance, found the other female glaring holes through her. She quickly averted her eyes and instead focused on Giovanni's cute accent and Brick's aggravating arm.

"Yes," Brick agreed musingly, before the conversation was broken by the ringing of a little bell. Everyone in looked up to the top of the stairs, where a butler stood with the still tinkling instrument behind Signor Ghirlandaio, who was beaming down on his empire below.

"Miei amici, mia famiglia: mangeremo?"

("My friends, my family: shall we dine?")

This, Blossom understood, and they moved along with the rest of the minglers who were slowly ascending the wide, graceful staircase which led up to their leader, and, apparently, the dining hall.

To her relief, Brick released his hold on her and instead they simply walked together, Brick and Giovanni still chatting amiably about vacations and "work" trips gone wrong in the past. Vivia walked alongside Giovanni, throwing the redhead girl ugly looks the entire way up the stairs and through stone doorframe into another large room, which offered a stunning view of the last few minutes of sunset and the blackening waters of the Mediterranean crashing against the cliffside. A massive table piled high with lavish platters occupied the center of the room.

As the reached the table, Giovanni left them to sit by his uncle. Vivia parted for her appropriate spot as well with barely a nod. Brick led her through the crowd with gentle pressure from his hand on her lower back.

Somehow, he knew just which seats were theirs, and pulled out hers for her, before relaxing into his own. As soon everyone had pulled in their chairs, there was silence and all eyes were on the head of the table, where Signor Ghirlandaio stood, rocking back and forth on his heels, making friendly eye contact with everyone and no one in particular. Blossom spotted Giovanni watching his elder relative attentively on his left hand side. For an instant, she was struck by the strong family resemblance in the two men – sharp chin, dark eyes and hair, and a broad smile that made you feel welcome in an instant…and yet the two Ghirlandaios both possessed a dangerous feel to them that, when reflected upon, brought to mind their true criminality.

Blossom inwardly shuddered, realizing how it would be only to easy to forget their dreadful deeds while focusing solely on their warm personalities.

Stabbed in the back with a smile.

When the Mafia lord had finally decided he had everyone's attention, he turned his gaze directly to Blossom. In suite, the rest of the table of thirty odd people turned their eyes to her. Blossom's heart flew into her throat, but she just smiled placidly at Signor Ghirlandaio.

"Well then, I'm glad to have you all with me tonight, as well as our newest friend, Blossom Utonium! Let us eat the delicious food our great chefs have prepared! To family!"

In a swift, obviously pre decided movement, everyone, including Brick, lifted their glasses of champagne and repeated his last two words.

"To family!"

Blossom was a little late on the glass raising, but no one really noticed as they dug into the ridiculous amounts of food in front of them, and waiters began flitting hither and thither catering to everyone's needs.

Brick leaned over and murmured so quietly in her ear, that she needed super-hearing to understand.

"You realize that would be considered a great honor, not only to distinguish you in front of the table, but to deliver the speech in your mother tongue."

Blossom nodded in understanding, and the pair dug into their food, which largely consisted of varying types of pastas, crusty bread and several salad options, including a Greek one which proved to be Blossom's favorite. The waiters and butlers catered to her every need, refilling her water, and asking repeatedly if they could fetch her anything. After a while, this got to be annoying, but each time she politely declined. She delicately avoided the glass of champagne each of them had been provided with, and did as Brick did, only partaking a few sips of the bubbly liquid.

And throughout the entire lengthy meal, she enjoyed the stupendous view of the dark waters lapping against the rocks, while the huge full moon dangled above like decorative disco ball.

Brick quickly became engrossed in conversation in Italian with the middle aged woman on his other side. The portly, balding man on Blossom's right took this as an opportunity to start up with her.

His name was Lord Whimsay, he was Dutch, very rich, and he was apparently very pleased to have a native English speaker to practice with. They carried on a humorous dialect, discussing the drastic change certain words in English had underwent, and he even taught the redhead a few Dutch phrases.

When the group seemed to have had its fill of the main course, Signor Ghirlandaio once again made an announcement to the group, although this time in Italian, making sure everyone would remember to come make to the table in a few minutes for dessert, which he claimed would be magnificent.

Overall, she thought as Brick pulled out her chair to let her out, she had passed an enjoyable meal, but came out on the other side worried at how well she got along so well with this bunch of slit throat criminals. She was a heroine, a guest agent of the CIA, defender of the innocent. She shouldn't have feelings of comradery for people who couldn't count on all their fingers and toes how many people they had personally slaughtered.

She shouldn't be making friends.

Ironically, just as she thought this, Vivia Dreeshaw brushed past her rudely, making sure to bump the puff's shoulders in cold hostility.

_Well, there's one friend I don't have…_

To her surprise, Brick let out a snort of exasperation as the Russian brunette flounced away. Again, he leaned in to whisper in her ear.

"We have to talk."

He grabbed her hand and pulled her away and out of the dining hall and down one of dark hallways, and into a small niche where a painting was probably supposed to hang, but, for whatever reason, there was none. It was a bit of a squeeze, but the two managed to effectively hide in the cramped space, even if there wasn't quite as much space as she would have liked between their bodies. Suddenly, she became conscious of how little clothing she was truly wearing. Uncomfortably, she squished herself further against the wall and concentrated on meeting the boy's bloody stare, which glowed in the dim lighting.

_Damn hormones. Do we even have hormones…? Off topic…_

"I was talking to Senora Johija back at dinner and I learned a lot," he began in a whisper.

Blossom's heart soared hopefully. A new lead in the case? Any information they could add to the case was desperately important and Blossom would even consider all this time, preparation, and nerves well spent if it turned out to be important.

"Well?" she murmured eagerly, pink eyes widening hungrily, impatient to hear.

But, of course, Brick was one who loved to disappoint, aggravate, and generally drive insane. He narrowed his eyes irritatingly.

"Not here, not now. We'll leave after dessert and appropriate goodbyes."

Blossom glared at him, disbelievingly.

"You dragged me back here to tell me to wait?" she hissed irately.

Brick sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"You're impossible. No, I also wanted to explain the stick up Vivia Dreeshaw's ass," he growled, frustrated.

"Yeah, what's with that?" Blossom queried.

"…she kinda has a thing for me…" he mumbled quickly, momentarily averting his gaze to take a peek down the hall, as if worried someone was coming.

Blossom looked at him in a bit of stunned silence.

Brick returned his gaze to her and sighed, again.

"Oh, shut up," he snapped uncomfortably.

"I didn't say anything," she retorted smoothly, still letting this odd piece of information sink in. It defiantly explained the other girl's hostility towards her. Still, it was odd…who would have a thing for Brick? That girl must be pretty desperate…

"You know what I mean!" he grumbled.

Blossom didn't want to say she was irritated, but somehow, this new turn of events did not sit with her well. Brick continued speaking as he realized Blossom had no comment.

"I didn't tell you because I hoped she would be at her home in Russia."

"Whatever. It's not like I came in here to make friends."

"Well, you're doing okay."

Was that a compliment? Coming from Brick, she supposed it was.

"I suppose. They aren't how expected them."

Brick pulled a face, but for the life of her, Blossom couldn't tell if it was distaste or…fear?

"No," he replied shortly.

In the second of silence that followed, a sound from down the hall hit the teens super-powered ears. A footstep. Blossom turned to face Brick. Red met pink in a startled stare. Again, the echoes of a man's shoes padding down the hall towards them. Panic crossed Brick's face, but before Blossom had to time to register or make sense of the situation, the back of her head was slammed forcefully against the back of the wall.

Blossom's eyes widened and she gasped as she got the wind knocked out of her lungs. Instinctively, she pushed back against Brick, who now had a firm grip on her wrists, using his body to pin her against the freezing stone.

Apparently, he had gotten stronger since their fights as five year olds, because she couldn't budge him. Confusion and anger filled her as he continued to lean in, and she struggled even more.

His face was close, far to close to hers. When he spoke, she could feel his warm breath brush against her neck, and she shivered, the contrast of the chilly wall and his remarkably warm body giving her goose bumps.

"Play along," he hissed, the edge of alarm in his voice catching Blossom's attention.

Suddenly, it all made sense. Their cover story. And _oh God _someone was coming. They would think the two Reds were plotting if they were discovered talking in the corner.

She was going to kill Brick later. She was going to castrate him, put his hands in a mega blender, and then blind him. He would pay dearly for leaving them no other option. But for now, she had to do as he said, and 'play along.'

She stopped struggling, and Brick released her wrists, but kept himself pressed against her thin dress. The footsteps grew nearer, less than a hundred feet away.

Blossom's heart was pounding a mile a minute, a most unhealthy rate, but as Brick placed a hand on her waist and the other on the side of her face, she just couldn't calm it. Steeling herself against…her own mind, she wrapped her arms around his neck, entangling her fingers in his long, wild red hair.

His face was buried in the crook between her face and her left shoulder, and his lips just barely brushed against the sensitive area just below her jawbone. To her displeasure, this sent a tingling shiver down her spine and the throat tensed. To her even greater displeasure, this made Brick smirk the slightest bit against her neck and Blossom's anger mounted.

At the rate the person was traveling and how close the echoes his feet made against the stone floor, Blossom guessed he'd be there in seconds. Seconds too long for her, it was getting harder and harder to think straight as Brick's mouth gently grazed down her neck to her collar bone.

The approaching figure was mere feet away, and would spot them any second. _Play along, play along…_

Her long pale leg slipping through the slit in her skirt, she leaned against the wall and wrapped her leg around his thigh, resting her forehead softly onto the side of Brick's face, running her hands down his back to grip feverishly at his coat.

Blossom wasn't sure whether to feel avenged or dirty when his breath hitched somewhere deep in his throat. She felt his heart pounding in time with hers, as fast as if they had just ran a marathon and it was all she could do to keep from gasping as his lower hand slid from her waist to her hip, while his other thumb caressed her check.

The footsteps arrived and came to a stumbling stop. Brick leapt backwards and Blossom righted herself, the pair breathing heavily and staring like deer in the headlights at Giovanni, who stared back in bewilderment, before cracking a small smirk.

"Am I interrupting something?" he teased gently. Blossom's heart was still pounding, her hands shaking slightly, and she was sure she was blushing. She didn't dare risk a sidelong glance at Brick.

"Uh…" deadpanned her "smart" counterpart.

Giovanni chuckled and waved his hand as if to shake off any explanation they were going to come up with.

"No, no, I see. But, it is good I came anyway, dessert is starting!" the Italian grinned cheekily and left again, supposedly going to meet his uncle and the others at the dining room.

The Reds waited a few good moments as Giovanni's footsteps died away again into the distant chatter, not making eye contact. Hastily, she tweaked her ruffled bun back into place. The only noise to be heard was their deep breathing.

Blossom dared to peek to the side. Brick was glaring down the hall, a light dusting of his signature color across his face. She quickly averted her eyes again, waiting for him to lead them back to join the "family" for dessert.

Another second of painful silence before he finally did, with a mumble.

"Come on then."

Still with no eye contact, they walked quickly down the dark hall, back into the light of the gathering. They wordlessly joined the flow of people back into the dining room, breathing returned to normal.

Of course, being Europeans, dessert was again a long affair of assorted fruits, cheeses, cakes, homemade ice cream, and coffee. Blossom nibbled on a piece of cheesecake, which although was delicious, she couldn't fully stomach. Lord Whimsay commented that perhaps she had eaten too much of the main course and the sound of his voice made her jump.

"Oh, heh, yeah, I guess," she laughed a bit uneasily, finding it difficult to concentrate when the damn boy was sipping coffee and eating ice cream beside her. She was super aware of his every movement, having yet to look at him. What was wrong with her? She should be more focused on fitting in with these people, perhaps learning information vital for their mission.

Lord Whimsay looked a bit concerned.

"Are you all right? You seem a bit distracted…"

Blossom smiled, pushing her confused thoughts and emotions away, determined to see this thing through to the end. They had come this far, she couldn't be blowing it now.

"Perhaps, I was just thinking on how many countries I have yet to see."

This launched them into a discussion of how truly long it took to visit and sightsee and get to know even one of Europe's historical cities, and how formidable it would be to even attempt at seeing them all. Thankfully, this small talk kept Blossom distracted long enough for everyone to finish their after-meal treat and conversations.

After the meal, a few people who were staying at the mansion, including Vivia, said goodnight to their host, Signor Ghirlandaio, and retired to their rooms. The rest of the party once again descended the stairs to continue talking or take a stroll in the courtyard which was now beautifully lit by the hundreds of hanging paper lanterns.

The Reds descended the stairs with all the others, Blossom's fingertips gently resting on his forearm, even this small contact bringing friction between the two. All she really wanted to do was run away and hide in a corner until she could look him in the eyes again without remembering how he smelled. The very thought was like taking a demolishing ball to her self-esteem. She really needed to get her act together; arrogant, haughty Brick was not allowed to distract her like that.

But, Blossom remained close to Brick, who approached various highly ranked Mafia members and said goodbye. She hadn't met any of them yet, but apparently it would be rude to leave without even saying a word to them. They proved not to be as likeable as the Ghirlandaios. Many smiled politely, but they radiated fear and greed_. _Particularly a certain man, who actually had filed his teeth into fangs, and had beady little eyes filled with hate._ Now if they were all like this, _Blossom thought, _I would have a much better time at hating them all_.

Eventually, they re-found Giovanni, who once again shook Brick's hand and planted the double-kiss on Blossom.

"Goodbye and good night, Signor Brick! Take care and don't stay away for so long next time! And good night, Blossom, I hope you shall return to say hello next time you are in Europe!"

"Thanks a bunch, Giovanni," smirked Brick.

"Yes, thanks, I hope we'll meet again," agreed Blossom, truthfully meaning the words, however dangerous it was. Mafia he may be, but he couldn't be that bad of a person…

As they were walking away to try to find Signor Ghirlandaio, he called merrily after them.

"And have _fun!_" Giovanni laughed, shaking his head at the retreating couple. Brick tossed a playful grin over his shoulder while it was all Blossom could do to keep from melting to the ground in shame.

Maybe she didn't want to see him again. The humiliation might just be too much.

Conveniently, Signor Ghirlandaio was next to the door, hands behind his back, eyes closed, letting the night ocean breeze brush over his face and immaculately combed hair.

"Bueno noche, Signor, mille de grazi por tout."

("Good night, sir, thank you so much for everything.")

The Mafia lord's eyes opened at the sound of Brick's voice and suddenly he was all smiles.

"Ah, but no, I must thank you for your company this evening! You really should come more often, it is a pleasure to have you! And bring Ms. Utonium for sure, you two will always be most welcome!"

Although his words were kind and Blossom was sure he meant them, it also made her a little nervous. This was most obviously just a party house for the Mafia. Their real work must occur all over Europe. Were they so strong that they could welcome a known super hero into their home-front without a trace of fear or caution? Could she really do no damage to them?

She pondered this as they slowly made their way past the courtyard and out to their car, but once away from the hustle and bustle of the house, and left alone with Brick once again, her thoughts once again were consumed with avoiding his gaze.

The memory of his lips ghosting their way down her neck was just too recent to shut out. They piled into the car, where he occupied himself with turning the car on, and she with removing her shoes. Once rid of them she settled herself into her seat, arms crossed and eyes on the road.

Brick cleared his throat, and the noise was far too loud for the silent space. They often remained quiet for hours on end, but that was in bitter, angry, cold shoulder for the other. Now, the awkward tension was so thick, Blossom swore she could rip a bleeding gash in it with her laser vision.

This unfortunately lasted a good twenty minutes. Twenty minutes of agonizing dead air.

"So," his voice broke the quiet and made her internally wince, but she didn't turn or make eye contact, "You wanted to know what I learned."

Ah. Why, yes. She'd forgotten all about his original reason to drag her away to the damned niche. She felt like slapping herself across the face for being so scatter-brained and ridiculous.

"Yeah," she replied evenly, pretending she had remembered all along. Apparently, Brick was feeling the tension too, because he launched into a rant faster than she could blink.

"At dinner, I talked mostly with Senora Johja, current representative of the Spanish branch. Mostly pointless news on their expansion, and the ease with which they had working with the local authorities.

"But once I mentioned odd disappearances and bloody deaths, well, she was off. Apparently, our villain spent some quality time in Spain, about four months ago. Six small children have disappeared from a local school where Johja has influence, and only four of the mangled bodies were found. One of her colleges also was found, dead and mutilated, in her office.

"This made Johja think that attacker was perhaps a rival Mafia, but she dug around, tortured a few poor souls and came up empty handed. And trust me when I say that rarely do Johja's cruel and unusual torture methods come up empty."

Blossom's insides contorted uncomfortably at the mental image, but Brick paid no heed, barreling on with his story.

"Then, for some reason, the attacks stopped. At least in her particular village. But Johja was on a mission and was not put off. She doggedly asked surrounding villages and towns, discovering that the attacks were traveling north. Last she heard, a few days ago, a member of the 'family' turned up dead just south of Paris."

Blossom held up a hand for him to pause.

"Just to clarify, you're saying that the reason we have not heard of most of these deaths because they were 'family' related and not reported to the authorities?"

Brick nodded shortly, continuing with a rush.

"Yes. Which, of course, leads me to believe that this criminal is even more dangerous than previously supposed, and that's saying something."

Blossom was momentarily distracted by the realization that she and Brick often had similar sounding rants. Brick carried on with his own said rant.

"So, when pressed what I should do if I want to learn more about these deaths and their attackers, she recommend Paris. I agree, and say that we set out in the morning, after reporting to Sherry of course. His trail is hot, and with some heavy-duty power driving, we might be able to catch some good leads while everything is still fresh, and maybe even prevent some deaths."

Blossom nodded slowly in agreement, turning over this new information, as the heavy silence settled in again. Brick turned into the exit lane for a small town.

"We'll stay here," he explained as an after thought.

Blossom didn't respond. In a few short minutes, they pulled into a motel parking lot. They paid the sleepy clerk and procured their room keys, quickly disappearing into their respective rooms, effectively escaping each other's presence.

Quickly, the pink puff ripped her hair out of its bun, tore off her expensive dress, threw on her pajamas and slung her bag across the room. With a moan of internal pain, she threw herself face first onto her bed, head buried in her pillow.

_This is not happening_ she groaned into the fluffy white material.

_This deal just got a lot harder. Curse you, Brick._

\.X./

Ooh. O.o My Italian is extraordinarily rusty, I apologize in advance to anyone who actually speaks the language. My butchering of it must have made you weep.

Dress shopping was funny, for me at least. Their little trip down memory lane (about their first battle/meeting) made me smile, how bout you? Also Blossy's fascination with Brick's eyes. :p

And we finally learn a little more about Brick's past with the Mafia. I hope I didn't confuse any of you . I fear I did…drat it.

And meeting the Mafia was kinda interesting to write…how was it to read? One of my short comings as a writer is I often have a hard time predicting reactions to my work…

Mhm. Brick and Blossom get a little steamy for the sake of their cover story. Psh, yeah right. We all know that deep down inside, they both enjoyed every second, even if for now they are very confused and awkward, which will of course led to more anger against the other. Fun, fun, fun.

And it's all in Blossom's POV. Idk, I just couldn't decide when to switch over to Brick, so I never got around to it. Oh well. I have plenty of future chapters that he gets a **lot** of spotlight.

*holds up hobo cardboard sign: "Have a moment? I'm hungry for reviews!"* Lol, joking. Okay, not really. Please? :3


	18. Chapter 17: Broken Spirit

This was tricky to write, probably why it took so long to get out to you guys, sorry.

Once again, I must profusely thank my reviewers, You all have my undying love and gratitude. And Butch's, even if he doesn't know it. Because I control him. And I had a random Butch fangirl moment.

Reeeeeaaaaad.

00oo00oo00oo

Honestly, Buttercup was beginning to have a hard time deciding what was worse about this undercover gig: Butch, or the no-powers rule.

They both had their moments. Moments when Butch drove her up the wall insane, made her _just_ want to rip his damn spiky hair out of his head and strangle him with it. Her counterpart had an uncanny knack of knowing _just_ what buttons to push to make her lose it. His immaturity, his ego, his attitude…they way he looked _just _like her. It pissed her off to the point where she was _just_ on the brink of "pulling another Beijing." Everything with him was _just_.

Then, they were moments like now, while she was standing on her hotel balcony in Tokyo, staring out at the sunset over the city and knowing that she would trade almost _anything_ to just zip away in a flash of lime green. As fast as she could, eyes open and stinging from the sharp wind, the breath ripped out of her lungs by pure speed, adrenaline-junky grin plastered on her face, skyscrapers whizzing beneath her…

But neither ditching Butch again or taking a forbidden spin around the city would solve her problems in the long run. In the long run, Sherry would always have Butch chasing after her. And even if she just told them all to suck it and leave, the killer would still be on the loose. And undercover or not, working with her ex-foe or not, she was still a super hero and had a duty to perform.

A duty that was just as formidable as ever, even with the Red's lengthy piece of news from Italy, that the Greens had received early that morning, directly after re-landing in Tokyo. Yes, they had already scoured this particular city, but in their brief absence of a mere day, three more deaths had occurred. Apparently, their villain favored Japan. So, on Sherry's orders, they had scurried back over here and had once again hit the streets. Butch was happier here anyway.

He spoke the language and loved rubbing Buttercup's lack of Japanese in her face, by purposefully ordering her the strangest food, taunting her to read the maps, asking what a sign said before saying, "Whoops, forgot, BC doesn't speak Japanese, heh heh heh."

After a few good punches to the face, he had gotten the message and restrained himself a bit more.

With one last longing look to the Tokyo skyline, Buttercup turned away with a sigh, knowing that she really ought to get some sleep because she they had to get up early the next day. Hmph. No sane being gets up at 6:oo a.m. on a Saturday to "get a head start."

With a creak of hinges, the door in the side of her hotel room opened. Buttercup turned to see Butch peering through. She rolled her eyes and flopped down cross-legged onto her bed. This time around, they had rooms with connecting doors and already, she was deeply regretting it. Let's just make it easier for Butch to irritate her, shall we? Of course, it could always work in reverse…prank him in the night? Buttercup repressed the wicked grin she was thinking, watching sullenly as Butch waltzed in, uninvited.

"What?" she grumped, resting her elbow on her knee, and her chin in her hand.

Butch wordlessly lifted his left hand, motioning to the buzzing watch.

"Again?" she groaned in disbelief.

Butch rolled his eyes in agreement. Buttercup irritably blew her bangs out of her face, but gestured for him to sit down all the same. He did and they sat shoulder to shoulder, sharing the tiny watch screen between them.

"Butch Strogoy Jojo."

Sherry's face promptly appeared on the screen.

"_Hello_," she stated briefly.

"Again," repeated Buttercup dryly.

Sherry paused to glare, but otherwise ignored the smart-ass puff.

"_Well, some more news…__"_

"Boomie finally found something?" joked Butch.

"_No_."

"No, I didn't think so. Damn, he's slow," Butch grunted. Brat, treating the search for clues almost as a race. Which the Reds would be winning anyway.

Sherry paused, something on the tip of her tongue, but, oddly, the usually straightforward and no-nonsense woman hesitated. Not so patiently, they waited. Finally, the older woman began, obviously wording herself careful.

"_Well, it's news,_" she repeated, "_But not the good kind._"

Buttercup's heart sank in dark anticipation, thoughts flying to her sisters. Were they injured? Did Buttercup need to bash one of Butch's brother's heads in?

"_Buttercup,_"

The puff's blood ran cold at Sherry direct approach of using her name. This could not be good.

"_I'm afraid to say that your creator, Professor Utonium, was discovered dead in his home a few hours ago._"

The world came to an abrupt, crashing halt.

Professor…

Was dead…

Sherry's next words flowed through her ears but she barely registered them as she continued to stare blankly at the watch face.

"_I'm…I'm so very sorry, Buttercup,_" the words stuttered off the CIA director's tongue awkwardly, but sincerely, "_But…he was found in the same state as the other victims…__"_

That monster…it discovered who they were, and…killed…

She looked away from her watch, away from Butch. She was afraid if she saw the pity on Sherry's face a second longer, that she would explode. Her heart felt cold with agony, throat thick with slowly building tears. She blinked furiously a few times, as rage was now added to her painful heap of emotions.

The thought was too much to bear. The Professor, the sweet, kind, loving Professor was dead because they had accepted this mission. Indirectly, she was the cause of his death. She had accepted, had left with her sisters, leaving the Professor defenseless and lonely to die a horrible death alone in his lab…

Sherry kept talking. Buttercup kept her face turned away, wishing she would just shut up and let her sit here and slowly understand.

"_My condolences…I know he was a clever man and a father figure to you and your sisters._"

Just shut up. Just go away. Sherry knew nothing. Buttercup needed time to sit and think, away from her apologetic words, away from Butch's silent presence beside her.

"_Your sisters will be notified as soon as it is day in their respective time zones. Buttercup…please don't beat yourself up over this. I understand it must be very hard right now, but just focus on catching this son of a bitch so he can kill no more good people. 10-4?"_

Buttercup grit her teeth. It was all too much. One more drop of pity, and the Greens would have not a single watch between them.

"Roger," breathed Butch beside her. Sherry's sad image died, leaving the Greens alone once again.

For a very long moment, no one moved. Butch didn't dare look at her, just keeping his forest green eyes trained on his blank watch face. Buttercup glared vehemently at the wall in front of them, drowning in countless emotions on the inside, but only furious on the outside.

This wasn't happening. It couldn't be happening.

But he did speak after a while, even if it was only one word. Her name.

"Buttercup."

His voice was oddly soft, and cracked a little at the end. For once, he wasn't trying to annoy. He actually…didn't know what to say. His awkward sorrow just made everything suddenly ten times worse, if that was even possible.

She lowered her head a bit, not looking at him, adjusting her broken gaze to her hands in her lap. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him began to reach a hand out to touch her shoulder, but he faltered and retracted his arm. Her stomach contracted into a ball of fury and tears, but she didn't move. Another pause. Then,

"We'll catch it. Him. Her."

Buttercup's hands clenched into fists, her fingernail leaving deep welts in her palm. Finally, she exploded.

"_Just_ shut up! _Just_. **Shut**. **Up!**" she snapped, springing up from the bed, widening the space in between them. He better not try to touch her again, try to comfort her. She wouldn't be comforted. The Professor, her father, her dad was dead. What did Butch think he was doing?

A niggling little voice in the back of her head, a small one that wasn't crying its heart out for the Professor, warned her she just acting out in anger, as she was prone to do. It wasn't Butch's fault…he was just trying to help, in his clumsy, awkward, evil counterpart way…

Slowly, he got up, green eyes wide and an uncertain look of terror and sadness on his face. This just drove her off the edge.

"**Get out!**" she screeched. Never before had Butch run away from a fight, but apparently, he knew when he was whooped and better get his sorry green ass outta there because he all but flew at the door that led to his room.

For a few seconds, Buttercup remained as she was, breathing a little heavier, eyes slowly filling with salty liquid. She felt like her very heart was bleeding. This couldn't be happening. Some sick joke of the universe.

Suddenly, she realized which moments were the most unbearable. The ones when she felt so utterly helpless. Helpless to truly deal with Butch. Helpless without her powers. Worst of all, helpless to actually help.

It had been a week. A week, and people were still dying. A week since she had planted a hasty kiss goodbye on her Professor's cheek, promising to be back soon. But now, it didn't matter. Soon could come and go, and she'd never see her father again. There wasn't even a proper body to bury, if the CIA would even let them have it. It was probably confiscated, being examined by their scientists as the other corpses had.

Cruelly ironic. He spent his entire life studying science and now, science was studying him.

He'd had so much to offer. He shouldn't have gone. It wasn't right. The man was only in his forties, for God's sake. Buttercup had counted on having him around for many, many more years.

Finally, emotion overwhelmed her and she sat back down on the bed with a creak from the springs. She swallowed thickly, forcing back tears. No tears, she was the tough one. Bubbles cried. Even Blossom was known to shed a tear or two at times. Buttercup didn't. At least she pretended she didn't, because when she did, it was a last resort. Nothing more could be done.

But, really, what could be? Sherry didn't lie. Of all things she did, lying wasn't one of them. And the pity on her face told all. He was gone. And they were left. She and her sisters…what would they do? Where would they live? They couldn't leave their home, not after all this. Their only memories of the Professor were in that house, his lab.

A single tear rolled down her face and Buttercup swatted it away viciously. Vaguely, she wondered who had discovered his body. Ms. Keane perhaps? The two had been going out on dates. They thought it was a secret, but pretty much all of Townville knew.

The thought made her miserable, and she flopped onto her bed and buried her face in her arms, choking back a sob. A couple drops of tears managed to sneak their way past her eyelids but she was too exhausted too care. There she lay, fully clothed, for a few hours, pushing down the hiccups and the miserable thoughts, until she eventually drifted to sleep.

**88**88**88**

_It must have only a few hours later when Buttercup was shaken awake. Blearily, she blinked a few times, wondering why she felt like there was a gaping hole in her chest, before she remembered – the Professor._

_Grimly, she rolled over and hoped for the sake of whoever was waking up her up, that they could run fast, because Buttercup wasn't in a good mood. Not surprisingly, it was Butch who loomed over her. He looked like he had just literally rolled out of bed, and she noted keenly that his signature little annoying smirk was missing._

_Intense, black hatred suddenly gripped at her mind, and Buttercup almost literally snarled._

_She suddenly remembered her parting words, but no guilt struck. He should have known to just scurry out of the way and let her mourn._

"_Buttercup," he murmured, an edge of caution to his usually boisterous voice._

"_That's my name, don't wear it out," she snapped, pushing him away so she could sit up. For the first time since…she could remember, he didn't retaliate, in words or actions. He must still feel bad about the Professor. She didn't need his pity. He just needed to stay the hell away from her._

_But, he didn't. He stayed, and continued speaking._

"_It's, um, another call from Sherry…" he mumbled._

_Buttercup gaped at him, before staring unbelievably at the vibrating watch._

"_You have got to be __kidding me!__" she growled, slowly swinging her legs over the side of the bed._

"_I know," he grumbled, sounding a bit more like himself as he took a seat beside her again._

"_Butch Strogoy Jojo," he deadpanned. Buttercup was getting tired of hearing that name._

_Again, Sherry's face flickered into focus on Butch's wrist._

"_What now?" half-shouted the green puff, waving her hands wildly in the air to emphasis her point._

_Sherry had the decency to look a little ashamed._

"_Hello…again__."_

"_This had better be re-ally important," Butch grouched. Buttercup felt her dark anger towards him mount - what was he complaining about, he hadn't known the Professor!_

_Sherry's eyes narrowed at the sassy Greens._

"_Excuse me, but let's not forget who your boss is__."_

_Sulkily, the Green waited for her reason to call yet again._

"_You are to board a plane for New York. Now.__"_

_Stunned silence._

"_Say what?" stuttered Butch after a moment._

"_You just had us fly to Japan!" added Buttercup with a snarl._

"_Yes. And now I'm having you fly to New York. Your siblings will be joining us too.__"_

"_That's the other side of the world!" complained the raven haired boy._

"_Is the case solved or something?" piped up Buttercup, not quite sure what to feel. She must just flip a lid if they found the murderer mere hours after the Professor died._

"_No, but we have a stupendous lead and need all six of you at HQ as soon as possible. You two are the farthest so you'd better get scrambling. I booked some last minutes seats for you, and if you can get to the airport in half-an-hour, you can make your flight and be here in 18 hours. Flight 203, American Air."_

"_What kind of lead?" questioned Butch, looking puzzled._

"_A challenge__."_

"_Challenge?" they chorused in confusion._

"_He wants to meet you all in person. He's set a rendezvous-point here in NYC."_

_Both the puff's and ruff's eyebrows flew up in surprise._

"_He apparently wants to…'teach you all a lesson'. Our best guess is he wants to battle."_

"_Well, then we are on our way," declared Butch emphatically._

_Buttercup cracked her knuckles._

"_And that bastard better be ready to feel the burn, cuz he's getting it – bad."_

_Butch nodded._

_Buttercup felt a bitter sense of anticipation. She'd get the chance to sink some knuckle into this monster. She would make him feel her pain. He was going to get it. He would pay dearly for killing the Professor. He picked the wrong bunch of super-powered teens to mess with._

_The angry fire in her stomach flared with emotion._

"_Then hurry up, get on your way! You only have twenty-seven minutes 'till your plane actually leaves the gate! And traffic is always heavy in Toyko, regardless of the hour. Get some sleep on the plane. You'll need it. 10-4, and shake a leg."_

"_Roger," they said in unison. Instantly, they sprang to their feet, energy suddenly soaring through them, despite having been woken up minutes ago. Butch raced to his room to grab his bag, while Buttercup grabbed her own, grateful she hadn't even bothered to unzip it yet. Simultaneously, they sprang out of their respective doors and, in silent agreement, ran to the stairs – the elevator wasn't nearly fast enough._

_Still at break-neck, without actually using their tell-tale colored powers, they barreled down the steps, with Butch actually sliding down the banister for last couple of floors._

_In a rush, they rudely pushed past the line already formed at the counter._

"_Check us out!" demanded Buttercup to the ruff, who really didn't need to be told, as he was already babbling furious (and probably dirty-mouthed) Japanese at the astonished clerk._

_Although Buttercup couldn't understand what they were saying, it was obvious Butch won their brief squabble, and the clerk quickly checked them out and billed them. Without so much as a thank you or good bye, Butch led the Green's charge out of the lobby and onto the crowded street. Despite being well past 10:30 at night, traffic was at it's bumper-to-bumper norm._

"_Taxi's not nearly fast enough," the green ruff growled under his breath, spinning around in circles, desperately trying to decide on what mode of transportation would be fastest, "Not bus, not the metro."_

_His dawdling was wasting time! Buttercup grit in her teeth to restrain herself from socking him into next year._

"_How far is the airport?" interrupted Buttercup, eyes glued to her one and only guide._

"_Mile, maybe more," he grunted, running a hand through his bed head of hair. Buttercup surprised the boy, and herself, by grabbing his elbow._

"_Let's run!" she shouted, charging down the street. Butch pulled himself free of her grip, effectively stopping her in her tracks. How dare he? They needed to go now, how big of an idiot was he?_

_Buttercup was about start shouting about how running would be way faster than any public transportation, when he yanked her shoulder towards himself, already half turning to sprint the opposite direction they had been heading._

"_It's this way, Smart One!" he taunted and they two rush down the sidewalk, pushing past the slowly traipsing citizens._

_Buttercup slapped his hand from her shoulder, dark fury momentarily blurring her vision. _

_Filthy bastard! Keep your hands off me!_

_They sprinted block after block, completely disregarding everyone and all crosswalks, simply jaywalking (jayrunning?) onto the street and jumping over any cars in their way. It almost became a race to keep in front of the other, except Buttercup had no chance because she would be utterly lost without Butch._

_They got to the airport in a record five minutes, without using their powers and with countless moving obstacles in their way. Both of them were panting heavily and had stitches in their side. Buttercup may or may not have pulled her shoulder while sliding over the hood of a car, but now wasn't the time to worry about that as Butch shoved their way through the security line, once again disregarding anyone who had been waiting._

_Once again, Butch babbled at the attendant in Japanese, even though it was American Air and he could have spoken English. But, there was no time for thought, because he had apparently said something terrifying to the poor man, who scrambled to print their boarding passes, and handed them over, shaking like a leaf in the wind._

_Now, they sprinted to the security line, which they could not shove through without raising all the guards' alarm, forcing them to drag the teens away for suspicion on being terrorists. And that wouldn't do._

_As they caught their breath in line, Buttercup grabbed her counterpart's wrist and read the time. They had ten minutes. They just might make it. She let his hand drop and fixed him with a curious stare._

"_What…what, did you say…to make that dude look like…like he was going to shit his pants?" she panted._

_Butch shook his head, also gasping for breath, and taking off his shoes_

"_Nothing that…needs to be repeated."_

_Her black hatred continued to brew and her lips twisted into a grim line. Butch wasn't one to hide his dirty mouth. And besides, he knew Buttercup had one of her own. So why was he refusing her? Just to be a jerk-face as usual?_

"_No, really, what?" she snapped shortly. He'd been on her nerves for the past several hours, no __days__, and he seriously needed to get his act together._

_Butch shook his head again, a ghost of a smile tracing over his lips. The green puff set her teeth, his light mockery of her question making her insides burn._

"_I wouldn't even know how to begin to translate it."_

_Buttercup let it drop because they had almost reached the front of the line, although her frustration with him wasn't appeased in the slightest. As both of their bags and shoes were consumed by the x-ray conveyor belt, they passed through the full body scan one at a time, and Buttercup sent up a silent prayer of thanks that no alarms had been set off._

_One less thing to worry about in her rush to avenge the Professor._

_Because I __will__ avenge him, she thought with bitter determination as they ran through the huge Tokyo international terminal, without even bothering to put their shoes back on._

"_Fuck!" yelled Butch, and made a sharp u-turn on the slick airport floor._

"_What?" cried Buttercup as her socks slid for traction on the linoleum before she finally got herself moving in Butch's direction again._

"_Wrong way!" he shouted as they dashed back, past the confused bystanders._

"_Butch!" she hollered in frustration as they back tracked._

"_What, it's huge in here!" he defended himself as they skidded to turn a sharp corner._

_Ugh, he is so useless!_

_Eventually though, they did make it to their gate, and just in the nick of time – they were making last calls to board flight 203. The startled flight attendants let the shoe-less Greens onto the plane and gratefully, they sank into their seats._

_Their entrance had attracted a few stares, but neither gave a damn._

"_Remind me never to let Sherry book us last minute flights," groaned Butch, leaning his head back against the seat._

_Buttercup silently agreed as she slowly began to pull her skater shoes back on. That had been way too stressful for a repeat performance._

_Thanks to the chemical X, the duo quickly caught their breath. Silently, they sat side by side as the plane took off for a direct flight to New York City. Buttercup bounced her leg in quivering anticipation._

_Her thoughts were interrupted by Butch's low voice._

"_Let's try to sleep. I know I'm still tired, and you're probably even more exhausted."_

_Buttercup gave him a dirty glare for assuming she was weaker than him. Butch backtracked quickly, trying to reword himself._

"_I mean…you are still grieving…" he trailed off, looking away at the last moment, not able to hold her gaze._

_Buttercup's tongue struggled for a second. Why must he remind her? Did he get an evil sense of satisfaction in seeing her hurt?_

_He was a monster, but arguing was pointless at this time. Best plan of action was to ignore him - let him see that nothing he could do would affect her._

"_Whatever," she muttered darkly, rolling away to face the other way and try to sleep. She couldn't see Butch or his reaction, but after a moment, he too curled up and within a few minutes, Buttercup was out cold._

_It was a good flight. Buttercup slept almost the entire way, only waking a few times when he position was became unbearably cramped. She discovered she much preferred fitful sleep to consciousness, where she was bombarded with thoughts of the Professor._

_But she was actually awake when they began to land, so it was she who reached over to give Butch a punch in the arm. He was awake instantly, eyes wide with distress and confusion, looking so much like a startled puppy it was all Buttercup could do not to laugh._

_He blinked a little, before throwing her a pouting look and sitting up in his chair, stretching his lanky legs and arms._

"_Gnnaaahh….damn planes," he grumbled, before running a hand through his now really messed up hair. Apparently, contrary to what Buttercup had previously believed, he did not gel it, because no matter how much the ruff pulled at it, it retained its spiky wildness. He just really needed to brush it or something, because right now, he looked like shit._

_Not that she should really be judging appearances at the moment. She felt even worse. Hallow with anger and sorrow, hungry from sleeping through the in-flight meal, and horribly cramped and bruised. That, and her shoulder still ached from whatever she had done on their frantic dash to catch their flight. She hoped the chemical X would heal it before their clash with the sicko that dared lay finger on her father, because injured or not, that monster was going to have it ala furious Buttercup._

_Her grip on the armrests tightened and she swallowed quickly. The captain flashed the seatbelt sign and she felt the plane slowly tip towards the earth. Soon, so very soon. But not soon enough for her tastes._

_With a jolt, they touched down, and the exact millisecond they had arrived at the gate, Buttercup was out of her seat and shimming down the aisle while the confused passengers squeaked and leapt out of the way. Butch groaned and shouted after her._

_"Yo, BC, take a chill pill!"_

_She didn't grace him with an answer._

_She also didn't hear the words of protest the flight attendant shouted after them as the Greens galloped through the gate, only to be confronted by a frightfully long line that all international flight passengers would have to pass. Buttercup's wild expression of rebellion turned sour as she almost rammed into the back of the innocent foreigner in front of her. Finally catching up to his renegade partner, Butch rolled his eyes and gave no comment, obviously knowing a lost cause when he saw one._

_Takes one to know one, loser, she thought sourly, a flicker of her black fury burning at the back of her mind._

_Passing customs took far too long for the impatient puff, but in due time, they had escaped the ridiculous security system. Buttercup once again forcefully led the way down a gargantuan escalator, but as she bounded off the moving steps, came to an abrupt halt next to the revolving baggage claim._

_Ahhh….derp._

_She didn't know where to go from here. _

_Butch darted around her and kept walking towards the door with purpose, as if he saw something she didn't._

_Conceited, Buttercup internally moaned, but scampered after him all the same._

_They approached a buff guy in a tux, who was leaning discreetly against a wall. Butch stopped directly in front of him, backpack slung across one shoulder, hands shoved in his pockets, head tilted up to look the enormous guy in the face. Buttercup stood behind and to the side of her counterpart, not sure what the hell Butch was doing._

_"Hey, you," Butch drawled. The much taller man lowered his sunglasses to peer at the green-clad boy, who didn't flinch. The two had an intense stare down for a few seconds, before the man gave a slight shrug and gave the two a little wave to follow, as he turned and wordlessly tromped off into the crowd._

_Butch rolled his head over his shoulder, his mouth sliding into a lazy grin. He sauntered after their agent. Buttercup clenched her hands into fists, loathing his arrogant ass. Did he find it necessary to show her up in everything?_

_Only a bit more…than I'll will never have to see his ugly mug ever again._

_Furiously scowling, she shuffled after them, sinister hatred pounding uncontrollably through her veins. The dark rage was slowly gaining strength with his every little action, and it was driving her off the edge every time she had to restrain herself. He'd be getting it soon if he didn't watch out._

_Their silent agent led them out of the sliding doors, to the parking structure and into a sleek black Hummer. He slid into the driver's seat and Butch hopped confidently into the back._

_"We're going back to HQ," grunted the burly agent as he slid the keys in, the powerful engine rumbling to life._

_"Are my sisters already there?" Buttercup growled, fidgeting with her seatbelt, disliking the angle at which it cut into her neck._

_"Your siblings are waiting," the nameless man confirmed. The drive was short, almost ridiculously so, if Buttercup had cared to pause and think, but the state of traffic was the farthest thing from her mind._

_Minutes from being reunited with her sisters, perhaps until she could wreck her revenge on the son of bitch who had dared lay finger on her professor. On all those people._

_If Buttercup had been in her right mind, if the thick, mind consuming hate wasn't clouding her judgment, she might have been able to push aside the grief and pent up rage to consider that she was being a bit short sighted. It was irrational, illogical even, to place so much stock and hope and even faith in an act of revenge. _

_If she hadn't been driven to the brink of insanity with her rage and heartache, Buttercup would have heard Blossom's nagging voice in the back of her head, reprimanding her for being a "ignorant cement wall, charging to her own self destruction." If her every molecule wasn't going haywire with emotion, she might have glimpsed the truth in these words. The death of the murderer wouldn't bring her peace, wouldn't solve all her problems, wouldn't right the wrongs. It would bring him to justice. She was letting this get too personal._

_If_

_If__ Buttercup was thinking straight._

_Which she wasn't as she charged out of the Hummer, past Butch and the agent, storming up to Sherry's office, barely even registering her sisters' presences in the back of the room. She tuned out Butch as he scrambled through the door after her, all eyes on Sherry's robust figure, still slouched across her spinning chair as she had been the day they'd met._

_"Where. Is. He," she snarled furiously, hands trembling. By now the bubbling, frothing, pitch black fury was eating away at her very consciousness. Every millisecond between the end of her question and Sherry's response seemed a life time of agony._

_"North end of the Brooklyn Bridge."_

_Buttercup didn't pause to think how uncharacteristic it was for Sherry to meekly reply to her aggressive behavior. She didn't even pause to think as she turned on her heel and crashed headlong out of the office's full length windows in a blinding flash of lime green._

_Out of the corner of her peripheral vision, she caught glimpses of colored streaks hot on her trail, only pushing herself harder. The polluted air stung her eyes and face, New York's colossal skyline blurring beneath as Buttercup led the six super powered teen on a full rocketing sprint towards the famous silhouette of the Brooklyn Bridge._

_As if controlled by one collective mind, they began a perfectly synchronized nose dive towards the north end of the bridge, shadowed from the sparkling in the early afternoon sun._

_As they touched down, Buttercup shot a quick look over her shoulder to confirm to herself that all six had made it. Not that it mattered. Whether she did it by herself or with the entire U.N. backing her, she was bringing it down._

_She shot off across the glass-littered gravel stretch of wasteland under the belly of the bridge, scanning for any sign of movement. A dancing shadow caught her eye and she abruptly changed course to whiz around the edge of a structural beam to find a scrawny, miserable looking man with an unkempt beard. He smelled of weeks of filth and urine, and was most unarguably as high as the moon._

_"You!" Buttercup bellowed, shoving the human onto the ground with one hand. He fell roughly into the ground, cowering and whimpering pathetically._

_"We're looking for a vicious, satanic mass murderer. Am I looking for you?"_

_"I-I-I-wa, ohmyoh, no, please, I," the man spluttered, face chalky white, pupils alarmingly dilated._

_"Spit it out!" she warned in a dark tone, holding a threatening fist up to his large nose. Her tunnel vision rage was fighting her tooth and nail - every second she wasted talking was another second she wasn't beating the living daylights out of her soon-to-be victim._

_"Turn…around…" he gasped, before passing out and crumpling into a pitiful heap of sinew on the gritty ground._

_At his shuddering words, an inexplicable freeze captured Buttercup's senses._

_Black rage fading to the background, bones heavy with dread, heart somewhere in her throat, Buttercup pivoted slowly. She didn't know how, she didn't know why, but she knew that she didn't want to see behind her. But she had no choice._

_Another crumpled body lay before her. A blond boy, her own age, dressed in a dark blue hoodie, spattered with copious amounts of blood, his arms and legs twisted at impossible angles, and an expression of pain of fear across his unmoving face._

_"Bo - Boomer?" she choked, staring disbelievingly down at the very dead teenager at her feet. Her dark shivering fury completely overwhelmed with this new paralyzing horror, all Buttercup could do was remain glued next to the ruff's dead body, slow, heavy thoughts trickling through her mind._

_She hadn't known Boomer. Last time they had actually exchanged more than sentence had been when they were five, when they had captured the naïve blond in a holding ray while Bubbles masqueraded as him. But, looking into his sightless dark blue eyes, glazed over with death, her innards knotted uncomfortably._

_Her eyes traced his broken form, too overwhelemd with the discovery of his body as to wonder how it got there._

_He…he must have been a bit like Bubbles…they were counterparts…he was young. Too young to die._

_Butch__…whispered a hushed voice…__Butch's 'little' brother__…_

_"Butch," repeated Buttercup in daze, finally able to rip her eyes from the motionless corpse._

_Of course! He's - oh God, he's…Butch will be devastated…where are they, I have to tell them._

_This monster, it must have been! He killed Boomer! No! The Asian kid, the Professor, Boomer, this list has gone far enough!_

_"Boomer?" stammered a voice. Buttercup turned a bit to see Butch coming to a gliding halt beside her, mouth gaping. Buttercup's heart twisted._

_"Butch, I'm so sorry," she managed to spit out, struck by the agonized grief filling her counterpart. Limply, he dropped to his knees, brushing a hand across his brother's bloodied bangs._

_"Boomer, no, you're not dead, come on Boomie…" he murmured thickly, clutching frantically at the shredded hoodie. Buttercup tried desperately to say something, anything, but no words left her lips. Soundlessly, she gazed down upon the pair of brothers, feeling yet another shard of her heart shatter._

_Butch's eyes closed, the rumble of a primal growl stuck somewhere in his throat._

_"'An agent fallen in battle died a noble death and you must insure it was not in vain,'" he chanted under his breath through grit teeth as he stood back up, hands clenched into white knuckled fists. His words sounded like a well memorized phrase, and were obviously not meant for her ears because he offered no explanation._

_With a swift jerk of his head, Butch suddenly turned his gaze to her, dark green eyes brimming with emotion, but surprisingly no tears. The CIA must have trained him well, to be such a cold hearted brother._

_"We have to find the others and warn them. Now! There is no time, come on!"_

_Buttercup, who just realized she'd been staring, gave a curt nod and they took off, bodies parallel and low to the ground, necks tilted to scan the area around them. They zipped along a few hundred yards, weaving in and out of the support beams, before they simultaneously caught a glimpse of red._

_"Brick," Butch grunted through the fierce wind they were creating. She matched the angle of his sharp curve, and they reached the spot in a few seconds. Buttercup pulled her neck upwards to right her body into a vertical stance before touching back down on the gritty ground._

_"Yo, Brick," called Butch sharply after mimicking her actions, jogging forward a few steps to the exact spot where they had seen the red blur._

_"Butch?" questioned a cracked voice from nearby. Butch quickened his pace and rounded the curve of a beam. Buttercup hopped along beside him to find Brick and Blossom, back pressed against the concrete slab. Blossom's arm darted out and she grabbed Butch and pulled him in to join, Brick roughly yanking Buttercup the same._

_"Whoa, you guys -" snapped Butch but the Reds slapped hands over their mouths before they could make any further complainants._

_"It's here," hissed the red ruff. Butch made a few strangled noises before finally slapping his brother's hand away._

_"Boomer's dead." he growled. Brick stared wide eyed at the raven haired boy, who didn't waver. Buttercup's eyes flickered to Blossom, who's mouth sagged with shock._

_"Bubbles?" asked the pink puff after a second. Buttercup felt her limbs freeze in horror as she realized their sister was now the only one not present._

_"And It's here?" Buttercup demanded._

_Brick snapped out of his momentary trance with a thick swallow._

_"Yes."_

_"We have to find her and regroup!" whisper-shouted Buttercup, dancing around her sister to dart back out. The dread that had seeped into her mind ever since that first moment she'd spotter Boomer was slowly morphing into sickening, nauseous fear - for her and the others. She hadn't even been sure they could die…that had proved not only a false hope, but a terrifying close reality._

_She hadn't moved five feet before a pair of agonized screams pierced her ears. Instinctively, she whipped around to observe with wide, scared eyes, two crumpled bodies._

_"Blossom," she shrieked, rushing back to her companions. The redhead coughed violently, blood gushing between her lips. Buttercup's eyes trailed down a few inches to se her sister's throat, slashed violently through, warm, gooey liquid completely soaking her front._

_"Blossom, what happened!"_

_The redhead's frosty pink eyes drifted slowly up to her face, lips twitching in an effort to speak, but Buttercup realized her vocal cords had been destroyed._

_"Blossom," she half-whimpered, helplessly watching Blossom's light fade disturbingly fast._

_A gurgling choke directly next to them distracted her for a second. Buttercup looked up to see Brick in a similar state, copious amounts of blood dribbling around his face. His sharp red eyes flickered from Buttercup to Blossom before his face went slack._

_"Br…" Buttercup started, before remembering and adjusting her horrified stare to Blossom - too late. She was gone as well._

_"__No!__" Buttercup screeched, slipping back to cover her face with her hands, realizing too late that they were covered with Blossom's blood._

_"No!"_

_"Sh! Buttercup, sh!" warned a trembling voice from nearby. Buttercup looked up, warm blood trickling down her face and dripping onto her neck. Butch's forest green eyes filled her vision as he wrapped one arm around her quaking shoulders to hoist her up._

_"B…B…Blossom…" she stuttered, still shivering with shock. Blossom gazed sightlessly upward, while Brick was still turned toward her. Their colors had always been red, but now they were entirely covered in it, their crimson blood and fiery red hair pooling around them._

_Butch tightened his grip around her. In normal circumstances, Buttercup would have beat the living shit out of him for touching her, but Buttercup was too numb to notice. This breath-taking, ice cold, pure __terror__ was a completely foreign emotion to her. She'd never felt so powerless, so at a loss._

_"Buttercup, snap out of it!" Butch hissed in her ear, spinning her around so she couldn't see the bodies anymore. "Now is not the time to mourn. The killer is on the loose! We have to find Bubbles fast, she's the only one left."_

_Buttercup nodded mutely, letting Butch take a hold of her wrist and drag her away. After a few steps, she regained enough of her presence of mind to keep up, although Butch didn't relinquish his grip on her._

_Suddenly, out of no where, a streak of baby blue whizzed in front of them, knocking them to the ground. In the fall, Butch's grip slipped, leaving Buttercup both her hands to use to bounce back up. In front of them, Bubbles was sprawled on her butt, looking a little dazed from their high speed collision._

_She looked up and blinked happily, relief washing over her petite features. Buttercup took a stumbling step forward, about to roughly crush her 'little' sister in a tight embrace, unbelievably grateful to have found her, but before she could, Bubble's small smile vanished, baby blue eyes widening._

_"Gnnough," the blonde choked, spitting out a few drops of blood. She turned her terrified gaze up Buttercup, wordlessly pleading for help, before Buttercup finally noticed the huge spike metal sticking out of her stomach._

_A deep, rumbling laugh echoed around the belly of the bridge, ricocheting off the concrete._

_"Buttercup," she gasped, before falling forward onto her face, revealing a dark figure behind her, still holding onto the jagged edge of the metal shard he had just driven through her chemical X body as if it had been jello._

_"We finally meet, Buttercup," purred the black silhouette, entire body cloaked in inexplicable shadows._

_The green puff rediscovered her voice._

_"You…killed…" she gasped raggedly, not finding the words to express what she felt._

_Again, the figure chuckled ominously, releasing his slight hold on Bubble's impalement._

_"Yes, I sure did. And you know what?" he cooed, taking a confident stride towards her. She stumbled back a step, feet stirring up a little cloud of grey dust._

_"It was only too easy," he answered his own question, voice oddly growing a few pitches higher._

_"No challenge anymore. I'd hoped for more from you Powerpuffs. Legends aren't all they are cracked up to be, huh?"_

_"You bastard!" Buttercup finally screeched, although still making no move to attack._

_He ignored her, still shaking his "head" in disappointment._

_"Not even those CIA trained Ruffs were a problem. Bam, bam…and bam."_

_At the last word, a shout of pain interrupted their conversation, and Buttercup whirled to left to see Butch on his hands and knees, writhing in pain. With a jerk, his head shot up to stare at Buttercup from under his bangs._

_"No!" she squeaked, realizing he was the only other chemical X left. Her conuterpart twisted and squirmed every which way, teeth grit in pain. With lazy, slow steps, the dark void of a being trudged over to him, reaching down with a massive paw to lift Butch by the back of his jacket._

_Butch hissed, thrashing in its grip._

_"So, you are a feisty one?" murmured his captor, a tendril of shadow reaching out to lingeringly brush across his dirt smudged cheek. At the contact Butch let out another blood curdling shout of pain, eyes squeezed shut tightly._

_"Stop, please!" blurted Buttercup, a little surprised at the amount of passion in her voice._

_Both looked to her, Butch's face filled with an indescribable emotion, the other a featureless void._

_"Fl…fly," Butch whispered._

_"Fly? You really think that's going to do her any good?"_

_Buttercup remained transfixed on Butch._

_"Butch…" she started in a hushed voice. Butch either couldn't or wouldn't respond verbally, but his intense stare was all the words she needed. With a little jump, Buttercup expected to go shooting off into the sky, but to her shock, she only fell back to earth with a heavy thud._

_"Like I said, you thought that would help?" drawled the dark nightmare of a thing, "Well, it was a brave but worthless effort. I'd say goodbye now, if I were you two."_

_Without another moment's hesitation, he dangled Butch from his tousled black hair, gripped the underside of his chin, and gave a quick yank. A loud snap filled the air, and Butch was dead before he hit the ground._

_Buttercup's piercing shriek was his only death cry._

_"And now for you, little miss, not so tough now are you?" he mocked, trampling Butch's limp form underfoot as it slowly advanced on her._

_"You are a horrible daughter. You abandon your fragile human creator, alone and defenseless? Wow, not what I would have expected from a so-called super heroine. He was oblivious…"_

_His words brought flickering images of the Professor to mind, only deepening the bleeding hole in her heart._

_"And sister? Pu-leaze. You never shared anything with them. You disrespected Blossom, your leader, disobeyed her commands whenever possible. You weren't grateful for her in the least."_

_Buttercup took a step backwards, eyes blurring with tears, and stumbled on a rock, falling hard on her back._

_"Bubbles? The countless times you teased her to tears? You ignored her smile, brushed off her sweetness? She was always too good for you."_

_Too exhausted to run, she struggled to push herself to her elbows, realizing the horrible truth._

_"And that one," he gestured back to Butch's body, "Really? That was the cherry on top. What. A. BITCH. you were to him. I can't even imagine what a headache you were to live with, when every single thing he did pissed you off, for no reason! Was it any wonder he retaliated?"_

_Tears flowed freely down her face, and she barely managed to restrain a broken sob. Had she really been that despicable? She was an awful person!_

_"You are a self absorbed, violent, moody, hypocrite who took everything and everyone in her life for granted. Your powers, your loving family, the friends you never knew you had. And now it is time for you to PAY!"_

_With these last words, he lunged forward, shadowy hands extended for her throat, and she didn't even try to resist._

_**88**88**88**88**_

Buttercup felt like someone had just socked her in the stomach.

She flailed to consciousness, fingers woven in a death grip on the bed, unable to contain a few broken sobs.

Completely disoriented, Buttercup sat up quickly, panting. Her bright emerald eyes fervently swept the room, taking in the detail of the floral wallpaper, the white doors, the grungy blue carpet.

Where was she…she was…

A look over her shoulder to the window confirmed her suspicions.

She was still in Tokyo. The second call from Sherry had been the start of a dream - a nightmare.

Her mind was too blank to be relieved. She was in shock. It had been a dream…impossible. It had been so vivid, so _real_, frighteningly _real_. She could still taste the gray dust in her mouth, feel the feathery warmth of blood, hear the echoes of her own anguished screams.

She sat stock still, still slowly piecing together her reality. A hand drifted to her face, touching the trails of her tears in surprise. Her gaze flew to the door that connected the Butch's room to hers.

Later, in reflection, Buttercup would blame the nightmare. It had wound up all her emotions, bared her deepest, darkest fears, and torn down her self worth.

It was only possible reason for what she did next.

* * *

Butch rolled over with a sigh to face the wall, too distracted to fall asleep.

He hated pity. It was a weak emotion, in his opinion, and he avoided it whenever possible.

But the news of Professor Utonium's death brought back painful memories of his own Professor Strogoy and his unsolved disappearance. He could relate to the unbearable grief Buttercup must be going through…

Normally, he would have never run with his tail between his legs, but he pitied her, God damnit.

So he had bolted. She couldn't deal with her emotions, that was clear, and he didn't want to be in the crossfire while he felt too sorry for the violent, unreasonable bitch to defend himself.

Now, he here was, wallowing with indecision as to how he was supposed to face her tomorrow. He could only pray that her tough girl instincts would kick in -

His thoughts were interrupted by the unmistakable squeak of a door swinging open. Butch froze, making the spilt second decision to pretend to be asleep. Silence filled the air.

A tentative footstep stepped closer, making muffled noises on the thin hotel carpet.

Aching to see what game she was at, Butch gave in to temptation and rolled over, pushing the blanket from his shoulders.

A combination of moonlight and streetlights flooded in from the curtain-less window, highlighting Buttercup's motionless silhouette. She was bare-footed, still wearing her ratty jeans and dark tee. She took another small step towards him, bringing her face into the light.

Butch's eyes widened as the pale light reflected off glistening tear tracks on her face.

She was…crying. Of course, Butch knew she was _capable_ of crying…he just did not expect her to come _actually crying_ to him, of all people.

"BC?" he murmured thickly, untangling his legs from his blankets. Her only response was to stare mournfully down at him, eyes wide and wet.

"Dude…" he trailed off, totally unsure of what to say. Disregarding that fact he was clad only in boxers, he stood up. For a long moment, they faced off silently. Butch shivered in the cool air, spellbound by Buttercup's broken stare.

Suddenly, without warning, she snapped. She sprung forward a few steps, flinging her arms tightly around his neck, slamming their bodies together in a fierce hug, her wet face buried in his bare chest.

Butch's jaw scraped the floor as he stumbled back a few steps with her momentum. For a moment, he simply stood there, staring flabbergasted down at the top of Buttercup's head. After a pause, it dawned on him that she had started sobbing uncontrollably, and, awkwardly, he snaked his arms around her slight figure, which for some God forsaken reason, only fueled her emotion.

Buttercup. THE Buttercup, was hugging HIM. Of her own free will. In his boxers. While she was CRYING her heart out.

His mind was blown.

Cautiously, he stroked her shuddering back, and she actually nuzzled closer. Neither spoke, mostly because Buttercup was too busy sobbing and Butch was unreservedly speechless.

They might have stayed that way for seconds, maybe minutes, hours even, Butch could never remember. But eventually, her body-shaking gasps died into intermittent hiccups and sniffles, and as quickly as she had jumped him, she pulled back, and without a backwards glance, or having uttered a single word of explanation, she turned and bolted out of his room, slamming the door shut behind her, leaving a bewildered Butch standing boxer-clad in the middle of his hotel room, chest covered in tears, wondering what the hell had just happened.

* * *

GREEN, AWWWW MOMENT!

Yesh. I killed the Professor. For Realz. And I felt like an awful person doing it.

You guys are some seriously smart cookies, I bet I didn't fool any of you with the dream for a minute, eh?

_**IMPORTANT**_: Ok, so I must explain. I don't think Buttercup is an emotionless bitch. At all. I think she is a bad ass who pretends not to get hurt, so, when faced with the news of the Professor's death, she doesn't know what to do, and doesn't want Butch to know that she's really sad, so she flips out on him. Then, eventually falls asleep from over-emotion, has this huge ass, emotion charged, absolutely horrible, gory, self-guilt dream (which may or may not have been natural *hint hint, wink wink*) AND THEN finally cracks and needs a hug from (shirtless ;p) Butch, who, of course, is totally confused. - I hope you lot are less confused.

In regard to her dream, it was realistic feeling, yes, but in case you didn't spot my failed attempts, I tried to make it more dream-like by having lots of inexplicable emotions, and a rather improbable story line. Geeeet it? :D

Random **MUSIC** note: This makes no sense, but in case you care, the hug scene has a theme song that I listened to a lot when writing it. "Feels like Tonight" by Daughtry.

Review please? :3


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